


Renounce Thy Virtues

by JadeElite



Category: American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: F/M, High School AU, Teen Pregnancy, Teen Romance, Young Michael
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-09-17 06:20:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16969308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeElite/pseuds/JadeElite
Summary: Christie comes from a deeply religious, bordering on the fanatic, Christian family. Despite this, she fell in love with Michael and continued to love him even when she discovered his true nature and ultimate destiny as the antichrist. In fact, she finds this side of him exciting, and wishes to follow him into the world he plans to create, while also finding it rather comforting that despite his dark nature he is incredibly sweet and caring towards her. For now, though world domination lies far off in the future, and for now the two are stuck in high school trying to keep Michael’s identity secret from her parents. When she discovers that she has become pregnant by Michael though, things get a little out of control.





	1. Chapter 1

My panicked knocking goes unanswered; I know he’s home, so I don’t understand why nobody is responding. “Michael!” I call out. “Ms. Mead! This is an emergency!” After another minute, by which point there are tears in my eyes, and my fist is red raw from hammering, I can hear the thump-thump-thump of somebody hurrying down the stairs.   
A sleepy-eyed, bed-headed Michael Langdon opens the door; of course, it’s Saturday, even Satan himself couldn’t drag the boy out of bed this early. “Christie. Hey. What’s wrong?” I push past him into the house, walking straight into the kitchen and making myself a glass of milk. He follows me uncertainly, bare-feet shuffling along the floor. “You don’t look too good. Did you see the doctor yesterday?”  
“I haven’t been able to keep anything down since I sick-upped at school Thursday.” Most embarrassing moment of my entire life, because I couldn’t make it to the privacy of the bathroom. No, I had to lose my lunch at lunch. Smell of somebody’s ham sandwich twisted up my tummy and then in front of the entire school I puked my guts up into one of the giant trashcans the rest of them disposed of their lunch the normal way in. I nearly collapse into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “So, I’ve got nothing in my system, I’m tired and cranky, and I just want to eat without it all coming up.” It was beyond embarrassing. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to show my face there again, especially once word of this gets out. I finally make eye contact with my very confused boyfriend. “Pumpkin… I’m in trouble or going to be at least. A lot of trouble.”  
Confusion shifts to concern and Michael takes a seat across from me. “What happened?” His voice is gentle. “Whatever trouble it is, mom and I can get you out. Mom can hide a body. I can be your alibi. We’ll take care of it.” He reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “Worst comes to worse we grab the fake passports and flee town. Mom’s kept you in mind for the escape plan ever since I told you our secret.” There’s an absolutely adorkable smile plastered on his face.  
I nearly snort milk up my nose from laughing. “Michael, Jesus, I didn’t kill anybody. But I’m honored that you think I’m capable of it.” It feels good to laugh, until my anxiety returns and I squeeze his hand tight. “But we might need that escape plan when my parents find out I did the opposite.” My stomach flip-flops while I wait to see if he picks up on my clue.  
He tilts his head to the side. “I thought you were against necromancy. Dead should stay dead and all that.” I sigh deeply at how completely serious he is.  
Oh no, I might cry again; I’m surprised I was able to stop in the first place. “Michael, I love you so very much… which is why I’m giving you a one time chance to bail without consequences.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I shake my head. “Just break up with me now, and I won’t be angry, I’ll walk out the door now, and this trouble doesn’t have to be yours.” I choke up, tears in my eyes. “But if you stay it’s a promise that you will stick with me through anything, that there is nothing that will be too much for you to handle.” Now I’m sobbing, trying to express myself through broken sentences. “And if you decide to leave me after I tell you what’s going on, today, tomorrow, next year, it will break my heart; I will never forgive you; I will yell and scream; I will bring down thunder and pain and terror the likes of which you could never dream of your father teaching you to control.”  
Just underneath Michael’s beautiful eyes are damp; he stands and comes around the table without letting go of my hand. “Christie… calm down. Kitten hey… shhh, don’t cry.” He kneels on the floor beside me, taking both my hands now. “Don’t cry. Christie, look at me.” Things are a little blurry, but I can make out the cute features of his face. “I’m not leaving you, ever. Swear it on my soul, for whatever it’s worth. Whatever this is we’ll get through it together.”  
I’m all snotty but do manage to stop sobbing; I wonder if I will have any tears left after this. “I love you… and if it means anything I think your soul is worth a lot.”  
Michael lays his head in my lap, allowing me to play with his blonde curls. “Now tell me all your problems.”  
I take a deep breath and gather all the strength of my will. “Sweetie-pie… I’m pregnant.”  
He looks up at me, a fresh round of tears in his eyes. “Pregnant? You're… holy shit.”  
“That’s what the doctor told me.” My heart clenches, expecting rejection. “I’m sure my parents can help me get them set up for adoptions… after their done screaming at me. When it’s over, I know things won’t be the same but… we don’t have to think about it.” It’s weird to think I’m going to spend the next nine months carrying and growing something I will just be giving away.   
There are a lot of emotions running through Michael’s eyes, surprise, excitement, but panic and fear overtake them when I talk about adoption. “No, no, nononononononono.” He sets himself upright and takes my face in his hands. “Don’t talk about giving it away. Kitten you have to keep it. For the love of… you always say you can’t wait to be a mommy.” His gaze travels down to my stomach, and his expression softens.  
“Want and capability are two different things. I can’t raise a baby.” I bite my lip, pressing a hand to my tummy; it’s grown firmer the past few weeks, even seems to be protruding out more than it used to, but I didn’t think anything of it before. “Much less two… which the doc said he thinks there will be.  
"Twins…” My boyfriend’s face gets the look of a dog who’s just been told it’s time for a walk. “You won’t be alone; I’ll be right beside you the whole time.” He kisses my nose, and I can’t help smiling as my heart warms up a bit. “No matter how many babies.”  
I look down at my abdomen, the thought of a future family with Michael filling my heart to the brim. “But what about your plans. Pumpkin you’re going to do great things one day, you’ll take over the whole god damn world. I don’t want to hold you back.”  
“So world domination is going to have to wait until the kids are out of diapers, I don’t mind waiting.” He caresses my cheek with his thumb. “Besides, what’s the point of ruling the world if I’ve not got a family to share it with.  
"Family…” I sigh, body going tense. “My parents are… they’re never going to let me keep them.” I have no idea what my parents will do, but I’m sure that they’ll find some way to take this decision out of my control.  
“It’s not their decision; they can’t make you give them up.” Michael starts to roll up the hem of my shirt.  
“They’ll figure out a way… could go to the courts.” I hold up the fabric for him, and he rests his chin in my lap. “Remember Patricia Jenner last year? Got pregnant, came back to school a few weeks after giving birth, crying because her parents told the courts they couldn’t care for another child and they made her give it up for adoption to prevent ‘child endangerment’ and she didn’t have the power to stop them cause she’s 17 so they have legal rights over her whole damn life.” I start to choke up, terrified of that decision being taken out of my hands. The crying keeps happening. That thought of a family, that beautiful picture that was blooming in my head, is set on fire. I could have everything with Michael, he may not have much now, but his destiny will lead him to greatness, and in that greatness, he will provide for my babies and me. “Michael… Patricia said she didn’t even get to hold her baby… and she doesn’t even know where they sent him.”  
The joyful look on his face fades. “No… no, they can’t do that.” Michael has tears in his eyes once again. “They can’t take them away.”  
“Take who away exactly.” My head swivels to find Michael’s foster mom standing at the kitchen entrance; I didn’t hear her come in. “Morning Christie.”  
“Morning Ms. Mead.” I try to wipe some of the tears and snot from my face. “We uhm… were just talking about.”  
Michael stands, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Christie is pregnant.”  
Ms. Mead pauses for a moment, before sighing deeply. “For fuck’s sake didn’t I teach you to practice safe sex boy?” She enters the kitchen, dropping grocery bags on the table.   
He blushes a bit, before stammering. “She thinks her parents are going to make her give them away.”  
“They don’t know yet.” I place my hands on the exposed skin of my tummy where my shirt was rolled up, thinking about the life growing just under the surface.  
“Well yeah, they’re going to make you give it away. Those people have holy sticks shoved so far up their asses it’s spiked their heart.” She looks me over, folding her arms. “How far along are you Christie, or do you not know?”  
“Doctor said nine weeks.” Tears again, I can’t control them, it’s awful. “Didn't… didn't… didn… find out until I saw him yesterday, came here to..to t-t-tell Michael as soon as I could.” It’s all overwhelming, my tongue is thick, and all the fear and sorrow has built up inside me to a point where I feel like I’m going to die.  
“Stop blubbering child, and how’d you get so far on without figuring it out? Didn’t you notice you missed your period?” She must see the confusion that overtakes my expression. “What in Samhain are they teaching you at that school, don’t they have a sex-ed program.”   
Michael cradles my head against his body to comfort me. “Abstinence-only, and we skipped the pregnancy part of the textbook because apparently, it’s our parent’s job to teach us that stuff. I was lucky enough to have you talk me through a lot of it; Christie did your parents explain anything?” I look up at him with a deadpan stare. “Let me guess. Sex is a sin if you get knocked up before you’re married you and your baby are going to hell.”  I nod. “We’re going to discuss this later it’s just plain wrong that I know more about how your body works than you do.”  
“Ms. Mead… what are we going to do? My parents are never going to let me keep these babies.” I nuzzle my face into Michael’s black shirt and try to calm down.  
“Why am I not surprised you’re having twins, of course, things can’t be simple when it comes to the two of you.” She looks me over. “You had breakfast yet kiddo?” I shake my head, clinging to my boyfriend. “You two go watch TV or something I"ll whip up something to eat. We can talk about all this when you’ve got a full stomach and a straight head.”  
Michael helps me to my feet, I take his hand and place it over my warm belly. “Ms….Ms. Mead…?”  
“Yes, Christie?” She approaches the fridge.  
“Please don’t tell my parents…”  
///  
We lay on the couch, my head resting on Michael’s chest. I try to distract myself with watching Tom and Jerry on the TV.  Michael is using his phone with one hand while the other rubs the skin of my bare belly, which is full of french toast and strawberries. It’s nice not to feel nauseous; I feel warm and full. But not happy, my heart is still filled with fear and sorrow.  
“Michael, my parents are never going to let me go to Homecoming now…” Teary-eyed again. “Sorry I don’t know why I keep crying.”  
“That’s normal, this site says mood swings come with the territory, your hormones are out of whack is all.” Michael shows me his phone; he’s on a week by week pregnancy site. I’m in awe of how he’s jumping right into this whole situation. “Homecoming is next week; we can wait until after.” He kisses the top of my head. “We wait as long as you need to. Let’s enjoy this while we can.”   
I feel amused by the cartoons playing on the TV, and comforted by Michael’s affections. “I love you.”  
He squeezes me close. “I love you too.”  
“Aw, aren’t you two the most adorable fucked up couple ever.” I sit up a bit to see Ms. Mead looking us over. “I’ve got pumpkins in the garage and a fresh memory card in the camera to record all the beautiful memories of you two before sleepless nights and a hundred dirty diapers.” Her smile is genuine; she’s always been accepting of me, she’s handling this better than my own mother will that is for sure.  
Michael helps me sit. “Sounds fun, what do you think Christie?”  
We don’t celebrate Halloween at my house, so pumpkin carving is something I’ve never done. “I probably won’t be very good at it.”  
He kisses my cheek and gets me to my feet. “You’ll do fine I promise.”  
—  
I don’t think I will ever get the pumpkin gook out of my hair. There is so much of it lying about the concrete floor it’s no surprise Ms. Mead made us do it in the cold garage.  
“You’re so talented Michael, how’d you learn to carve them so well?” I pick up one of his completed pieces and look it over. He’s shaved away the husk of the orange beast to create a layered image of two figures dancing. “They’re gorgeous.”  
“Halloween is kinda our 'thing’ you know, the day of the dead and all the demons getting loose from hell type night you know?” Michael smiles softly, looking over my crude jack-o-lanterns with their crooked smiles. “Yours are beautiful; I don’t know why you won’t let us put them out.”   
“It looks like shit; you don’t have to lie to me just cause I’m carrying your babies.”   
“I don’t lie because of that… I lie because I love you.” He teases.  
I pause, enjoying the moment. “Will you… always love me?”  
He chuckles. “Of course I will.”  
I grin and move the pumpkin I’m holding, so it is in front of my stomach. “Even when I am swollen up this big?”  
Oh, there are those dimples the boy gets when he laughs. “I might love you even more. Maybe it’s silly but the idea of you carrying life inside you… a life I helped you make… kinda turns me on.” He blushes, apparently having not intended to say that part out loud.  
One of my eyebrows goes up, and I can help myself when I place the pumpkin down and pick up one of the larger uncarved ones, a bit of a chore since it’s heavier than I expected, and hold it in front of me. “What about when I’m this big? Sexy still?”  
He bites his lower lip, and approaches me slowly, lifting his hands and placing them on my cheeks. “Kitten, you are the most amazing creature ever to set foot on this earth. I didn’t think I could be this happy before I met you, you are the reason I can Feel things! You have no idea how great it makes me feel to know that you are carrying my children, for that you will always be the most beautiful, sexiest, glorious being I’ve ever laid eyes on.” My entire body is heated up, and my heart is racing as he speaks, and my stomach twists up in all the right kind of ways as he leans awkwardly over the pumpkin and gives me the most loving kiss ever. And before he pulls away, he whispers into my lips. “I’d be lost without you.”  
I pray, to whatever is out there that can help us, be it Satan himself or something else, that this all goes well. That nobody takes this from me. Because despite the odds I fell in love with the antichrist, and he fell in love with me. Now we’ve got something special, but I don’t think my heart could stand the pain of losing it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On tonight’s episode of RTV; homecoming dance.

“Christie darling, I wish you would have chosen something less… this… for your costume.” My mother finishes freeing my hair up; the dark locks spent hours in grandmothers old rollers to get the perfect bouncy curls.  
“Mother I promise the will be the least provocative dress at the dance, I’m going to look Amish compared to the other girls.” I smile, mind wandering. Homecoming was all anybody could talk about this week at school. But for Michael and I, we were an exception.  
It was as though our own little world sprouted underneath our feet. Every moment we were together we retreated into our own little bubble of paradise. Walking down the halls with his arm thrown over my shoulder. His eyes on my stomach every chance he could, sometimes reaching over to give it a rub through the shirt when nobody was looking. And the best part is that with the anti-nausea medication I got from the doctor I finally stopped throwing up in front of everybody.  
“It’s not revealing, I agree with you there, it’s not that which worries me.” She fluffs my hair, trying to get it to sit properly, always with the attention to detail even if she disapproves. “A demon? I understand it’s all in good fun, but I don’t think God would…”  
“God would get a good chuckle out of this, and you know it, Claire.” My mother’s friend, a special effects make-up artist, owed mother a favor and agreed to do me up for the dance. “I mean if all demons looked this good nobody would be able to resist temptation.” She did better than either of us had expected; I genuinely look as though I’ve just walked out of a film. Multiple sets of small, black horns protrude from my forehead and temples as though I suddenly sprouted them. My skin appears cracked like pale, broken clay. The bright red of my eyeshadow, the deep purple-black of my lipstick, and that spot on perfect winged eyeliner top off a fantastic job.  
Before my mother can say anything to respond to her friend’s assertion, my father calls out from downstairs. “You ladies almost finished? There is a very eager young man at the door, and I don’t think he wants to be kept waiting.” My parents barely approve of Michael, only because they know that most of the other boys I go to school with are rotten to the core, but also because Michael does an outstanding job of hiding his identity around them and even managing to pretend he is a good Christian boy. ‘Could be worse, at least you’re not the antichrist.’ Father said during the first dinner I invited Michael to. I fell out of my chair laughing so hard, but my poor boyfriend was caught in a bewildered state, really unsure how to respond to that assertion.  
“We’ll be down in a minute daddy!” I call out, bouncing slightly. “Zip me up zip me up zip me up.”  
“So eager aren’t we, so long as you don’t take that enthusiasm into getting it unzipped.” The friend laughs, winking at me. Oh, I will with absolute certainty have the same excitement.  
Mother takes the zipper and begins to pull it up my backside, but it sticks a little on the way up, and the dress feels tighter than when I tried it on before. “Hmm, odd we had this tailored to your measurements.” My heart suddenly begins to thunder in my chest, realizing that it’s the effect of my growing baby bump, it was almost terrifying how it had changed so much from even just a week ago. Easy enough to hide still, but you hadn’t considered that something so well fitted might not… fit. “Indulging in the pre-Halloween candy too much this year Christie?”  
My shoulders relax slightly. “Sorry Mommy, I’ll start going for runs tomorrow?” With a bit of a tug, she gets it past that point only to be stuck higher on my back. She says nothing this time, and I pray she attributes the increase in my breast size to puberty.  
When the dress is done, I look myself over in the mirror. The skirt flairs out into a gothic lacy multi-layered beauty, while the torso is tight, the collar high, and the shoulders puffy. I’m suddenly conscious of my form, of that bump protruding from the skin-tight black and red cloth. Out of the corner of my eye, I seem my mother’s friend smirk with a raised eyebrow. She has the idea in her head; hopefully mother doesn’t get the same one.  
I’m broken out of my concentration when mother puts the heavy black cloak over my shoulder, which alongside my white stockings and heeled boots, give my costume the perfect dramatic flair. “Think he’ll like it?”  
“He better, I’m going to have to pray for a week straight for God to forgive you.” Mother kisses my cheek, then turns me towards the door.  
At the bottom of the steps is my son of a fallen angel, dressed as a drop dead gorgeous celestial being. Michael’s white suit looks stunning, especially with the purple and gold accents; an ascot, the buttons, the stitching, and that lovely eyeshadow. But it’s the dollar store wings and halo that sell it for me. I want to run down the stairs and jump in his arms and kiss him, but restrain myself for being in front of my parents and for fear of falling. But I adore that look in his eyes; he loves me, he thinks I’m beautiful I can tell by the shine in his face as I descend.  
“Have her home by midnight or else.” My father says after the hugs and the pictures.  
“Daddy what did I say about threats?” I tease while Michael guides me down the sidewalk. Father rolls his eyes and watches us get into Ms. Mead’s car. Michael gets behind the wheels and doesn’t wait a moment longer than necessary to pull away. At which point, we both relax significantly.  
“You are so damn beautiful Christie, how did I get lucky enough to make you mine?” Michael watches me out of the corner of his eye, a dopey grin plastered across that lovely face.  
“I don’t know how you did it the first time I really don’t, but you did a great job sealing the deal, all you had to do was knock me up.” I lean back in the seat, placing a hand on the tight fabric over my stomach. “I’m showing… people are going to notice. They’re going to laugh… and talk… and gossip.”  
“Let them; they don’t matter. All that matters tonight is you and I.” Michael reaches over and rests one hand on my plump little tummy. “And for the record, I think it makes you look even better.”  
I smile, resting a hand beside his. “So what is this surprise? Why’d you need to pick me up so early?” My gaze drifts and I watch the children walking down the sidewalk in their adorable costumes.   
“Mom wants pictures too, and I made something I wanted you to see.” He gives my tummy one more rub before returning his focus to the wheel. I picture myself a few years from now, walking down the street with my little ones, taking them door to door trick or treating. A little princess in one hand and a pirate in the other. A scary skeleton and a bedsheet ghost. A ferocious dragon and a daring knight. A powerful witch and dangerous warlock. Superheros. Super-villains. Clowns. No, not clowns, never clowns.  
By the time we pull into Michael’s driveway, I am submerged in fabulous fabric and children’s laughter. He stops a bit too hard, and I lurch against the seatbelt. A wave of nausea hits me, and I pray to Grandpappy Satan that I don’t ruin my make-up.  
“Sorry still getting the hang of… Christie?” Michael puts a hand on my shoulder, and the sickness subsides.  
“It’s fine… I’m fine.”   
Ms. Mead is waiting at the open garage for us, smiling wide. She has taken this teen pregnancy thing reasonably well. Her concern is less for typical reasons a parent would be, and more so about how this could impede the great destiny that Michael is supposed to have. Still, her love for Michael and his happiness, and the thought of being a grandmother overrides those concerns. She takes me in her arms for a hug as I approach.  
“You look stunning dear.” She brushes a lock of hair out of my face. “We should consider a look like this when planning the wedding.”  
Michael’s cheeks turn a shade of red as stunning as my look. “Mooooom… don’t talk like that.”  
“Decisions like that are a long way off Ms. Mead.” I laugh a bit, heart fluttering at the thought of marriage. “Have to wait and see if Michael ever wants to pop a question like that.”  
“Well, he better!” She gives her son a stern look. “Don’t go letting this one run off on you! Especially now that she’s having your babies. You’ll never find somebody this perfect for you again.”  
Oh hey look, he got even redder somehow. “Can we just go look at the pumpkins already,” Michael mumbles, shuffling his feet. I hope he never grows out of that cute little-embarrassed face.  
The garage is now filled with carved pumpkins, my poorly cut wonky smiles, more of Michael’s beautiful pieces of art, and some pretty neat satanic symbols that look to be Ms. Mead’s. They’re going to put them out on display on Halloween night, make them more special to be a one night only display. Michael stands eagerly in front of the largest pumpkin, who’s carving is turned away from us.  
“We don’t have to put this one on display I don’t mind, but I made it for you.” He’s chewing his lower lip, and I can’t stop thinking about how much I love him. When I’m here, looking at him and him looking at me, it’s like nothing else exists. There’s no point to life without him because I was made for one purpose, to be his. It takes a bit of effort for him to turn it for me to see, and the rush of emotion that overtakes me nearly causes me to fall over.  
“Oh Michael…” I can’t cry it’ll ruin the makeup. Two in utero fetuses, perfect little unborns carved into the husk of the pumpkin. Tiny hands and tiny feet and even the umbilical cords. Our babies.  
“I just… wanted to show you how much it means to me that you’re carrying my children.” He approaches me, hand immediately going to my belly. If I let him I presume he would have that hand live in that spot. I might let him.  
Just as our lips meet tenderly to kiss there is a flash of a camera, and Ms. Mead laughing at our suddenly surprised faces. “You’ll thank me later for documenting this lovey-dovey crap. Now let’s get one of you two with the pumpkin, then you kids go on and get to the dance.”   
///  
“Don’t drink that…” Michael guides me away from the punch bowl. “John Henderson spiked it earlier.”  
“And yet you have a lovely glass of it in your hand don’t you, pumpkin?” I tease, leaning into him while he keeps his arm around my waist. He has to be careful not to let it slip down too far otherwise one of the chaperones will get testy.  
He nuzzles the side of my face so that he can whisper in my ear. “Well, I’m not pregnant, so I can drink what I want.”  
“That isn’t fair.” I giggle. “If I can’t have fun you shouldn’t either; you’re the reason why.”  
He chugs his cup then looks at me. “What was that? Couldn’t hear you over the music.”  
“You two are so cute together.” One of the yearbook photographers stop us, I feel like I know his name but can’t remember it. He holds up his camera. “Mind if I snap a couple of pictures for the yearbook.”  
That cheeky grin Michael gets makes my heart flutter. “Only if you can get us copies, mom might want to stick them in one of her scrapbooks.” Ms. Mead doesn’t scrapbook; I don’t know what he’s on about. Why are those two so on about pictures all the time, and not with everything, just with him and me and us being cute together. Photos photos photos all the damn time. We pose all cute like, and the flash makes my head spin.   
“Okay, we done?” I lean into Michael, unsure if I’m going to be hit by the sickness again or not.  
“One more.” He gives the kid a stern look. “This one doesn’t go in the yearbook, just goes straight to me understand?” While unsure, there is no saying no to Michael when he gives that look, so he nods. “On the count of three, one… two…”  
On three he spins me around and dips me back, giving me a deep and passionate kiss. I’m so surprised, but it’s so delicious that I end up just closing my eyes and melting into his snickerdoodle lips. We stay there for an eternity, this time the flash doesn’t bother me. It’s not until one of the adults grab Michael by the shoulder and forces him to pull away that I regain my awareness of where I am.  
“Remember the PDA rules Langdon, don’t want to give out detentions on homecoming night but I will.”   
Michael rolls his eyes but stands back from me to comply with the rules. “You get that kid?” He looks over to the photographer, who is still standing with a gaping mouth. “You did get it right?” There’s a quick affirmative nod. “Good, now scram.”  
Neither Michael or I are the dancing type, at least not to this kind of music. Sometimes we practice ballroom dancing in his cramped bedroom, bumping up on the dresser, the tv stand, falling onto the bed and staying there. I had initially planned to drag him in any way so we could have fun with my friends. But that bouncing-jump dance doesn’t appeal to me or the babies growing inside me right now. And slow dances where you have to stay arm’s length away is honestly sad and pathetic. It’s nice to watch the others though. Tune out the music, watch the colored lights. It takes a while to find a position that is intimate enough while not pissing off the chaperones. They are surprisingly alright with me leaning into his torso while he leans against a wall, his arms wrapped around me and taking advantage of it to rub my belly. We point out things we notice in the decorations, sigils hidden on the banners that would never have been approved by the faculty if they had seen it. Comment on costumes that are either rather terrific or horrifically embarrassing, and we do get some classmates telling us that our costumes are the best out of the bunch. More than a few people try to drag us into the dance floor, my friends nearly pleading with me, saying we haven’t had any fun lately, I can’t be ditching them for my boyfriend all the time. A hand over my tummy and a whiny, “I’m not feeling well guys,” usually gets them to give up, but it’s still nice to talk with them about what I’ve been missing out on in the social circles.  
Which is how I learn that I’m not the only recently pregnant girl in our grade. Possibly. Nobody has confirmed it yet, but there is a rumor that the transfer student got moved here because her parents wanted to get her away from the boy who got her pregnant. Only a story, but usually rumors sprout out of something, a little truth buried under a whole lot of lies, a big game of telephone. It makes my heart hurt to think about that kind of thing. I don’t know what I would do if I were separated from Michael, and there is more than a likely chance that once my parents find out that they will try something similar. Not that Michael would allow it, he would kill before he let that happen, and for many other reasons, even minor infractions. I do hope it doesn’t come to that though.  
Eventually, we slip out before the dance is over, intent on getting some alone time before my curfew.  
///  
“Baby names?” Michael mumbles in my ear while his fingers interlace with mine.  
I stare up and the big expanse of starry sky, overwhelmed by its beauty, the devil knows how Michael found this spot. “I have no idea, Michael. Do we have to name them?” I nestle my face into the crook of his neck, not bothering to be careful of my horns because he likes the way they feel when they scratch him.  
He snorts a laugh. “Yes kitten, we have to name them, that is a requirement of having kids.”  
I make a dramatic sigh, then take a deep breath of fresh night air. “I’m going to miss this, cuddling up under the stars.”  
“You think we’re going to stop stargazing when the babies come? We’ll bring them with us.” He sounds so calm, so sure of himself and our situation. This past week I’ve had moments where I began to forget we are still only sixteen, that adulthood isn’t quite upon us yet; still, I think we are ready for the impending responsibility. “They can lay on our chests while we look up at the sky and…”  
“Michael.” I cut him off, tearing up. “I mean after…”  
“Oh…” He understands. “I guess that’s the sad part about remaking the world in my image, the parts of this one that isn’t so bad are going to get lost.”  
“Don’t get me wrong, I love you for everything you are, and your idea of the new world excites me…” I bite my lip. “But sometimes it feels like I wouldn’t have a place in it.”  
“Of course you would! Your place is by my side, helping me rule it.” Michael kisses my cheek.  
I turn away. “I don’t know if I can rule a world like that, not when I was made for this one.” He is silent; I can feel his body going tense. We stay awkwardly like this for a few minutes, until a thought strikes me and tears roll down my cheeks. “Our children won’t know these beauties… they’ll be too young.”  
He grips my hand tight. “No. I won’t let that happen. I will… I will make sure there is something left of this. A tiny patch of heaven just for you and me and the little ones.” He cups my chin. “And anyway, you’re too beautiful to spend eternity in the darkness of my world. I’ll want to see you in the light sometimes.”  
“Says the angel to the demon.” I tease.


	3. Chapter 3

“You have to relax kitten.” Michael squeezes my hand. “You can’t let what they say get to you. It’s unnecessary stress.”  
“Unnecessary?!” I sit up a bit so my glare can affect. “My parents just told me that it’s their right to decide my future, that there’s no point in me planning for anything else. And you want me… to calm… down?!”  
He doesn’t flinch, and his voice is firm. “Christie don’t talk to me like that. I just want what's…”  
“Do not! Say what’s best for me!” I rip my hand out of his. “That’s verbatim for what my father said, you even have the same tone.!”  
There’s regret in my boyfriend’s eyes, but before he can recover there is a voice at the door. “Do try to remember this is a hospital, MIss.” White lab coat, this is Dr. Ramirez I guess. “So do try to use your indoor voice.” He looks me over while crossing the room, my body is still tense, and my breathing a bit ragged. “Rough day?”  
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” The things they said keep drifting through my head like a broken record. “And don’t give me the crap about hormones and mood swings that the nurse gave me. My emotions are perfectly fricken valid.”  
“I’m sure they are.”  
‘Just cause yer hormones are on the fritz don’t mean you can give me attitude young lady. Mood swings ain’t an excuse for bein’ rude.“ I swear if she gave me one more judgmental look or made one more comment about teens needing to keep their legs closed to stop things like this and I might have smacked the accent out of her.  
I know what Michael is thinking. 'What have I gotten myself into? If she’s like this at twelve weeks, she’s going to kill me by the time she goes into labor.’  
"That’s not what I was thinking…” Michael brushes hair out of my face. “I was just thinking…”  
I roll my eyes. 'Oh, so we’re reading my mind without consent now? Good to know carrying your kid removes privacy restrictions.’ He winces, and I’m probably going to get told off for that later. At some point during my angry mind ranting the doc got the blood pressure device around my arm, looks like it does heart rate as well. 'Cool’  
“Christie is really into medical stuff, always making me listen to boring stuff about MRI machines and…” He genuinely perks up as he begins to talk about my interests. Michael may not speak to other people a lot, at least when I see, but if there’s one thing the boy won’t shut up about, it’s me. I’m probably a narcissist for enjoying that.  
“So, you want to be a doctor, Mrs. Langdon.” Dr. Ramirez takes advantage of my eyes going wide at the choice of name to flash a light in them and check my pupils. My gaze flicks to Michael, who is equally stunned, and awaiting my reaction.  
It makes me smile actually. 'I think I’d like to be a Mrs. Langdon one day. So long as Mr. Langdon stays out of my fucking head.“ I’ve never seen him try harder not to laugh than he is right now. "Medical engineer. Too squeamish to deal with sick people up close. But I still want to do good for people, and I’ve always been good with science and numbers, machines and chemicals. My parents aren’t very keen on me going for it because I"m a girl, but my uncle taught me a lot about robotics, and my aunt let me use her… chem lab to do all sorts of experiments.” I want to be a writer. My Aunt Jo had a thriving meth lab back in the day; now she’s serving twenty years in prison. Uncle Pat’s story is a bit more interesting. He had to flee to some non-extradition order country after the FBI traced a bot with a bomb back to him. A bot found making it’s way to one of the exterior walls of Fort Knox. The rest of his team got caught though and revealed they had been involved in at least thirty heists across the country in eight years, everything from local banks to federal buildings.   
I want to write about anything and everything, but I can’t help the world like that, and before I let Michael destroy it, I want to do some good for it first. Although I lost my favorite aunty and uncle the bright side is I have a trust fund that can pay my college tuition to Harvard or some other expensive place, three times over. There are a couple of other shady family members that have invested in what has become the only descendant to both my mother and my father’s family tree.  
Michael does laugh now, and I realize the doctor has been trying to get my attention.  
“Sorry, I guess I phased out. What did you say?” I guess I lose track of things when my extended family gets brought up. I used to joke with Michael that the only reason the antichrist could fall in love with a goody-two-shoes, want-to-make-the-world-better daughter of two majorly overly religious zealots was that he’s waiting for my hereditary evil to blossom. There are too many nasty and immoral people in my bloodline for me to maintain my purity and innocence forever. It’s a surprise Michael has not stripped it away already.  
“I’m concerned about your vitals. It’s clear you are anxious, which is understandable in our situation.” He is making notes on his clipboard. “But I am also concerned about the fetus’ health if this level of stress continues or elevates, especially if you are carrying multiples as your GP suspected. I ask that you avoid stressful situations whenever possible. Before you leave, I’m going to show you a couple of breathing exercises and coping mechanisms. I’m also going to write up a referral to a counselor.”  
“I don’t need a…”   
Michael squeezes my hand. “I think it might be good for you to talk to somebody…”  
“I’m going, to be frank.” 'Hello Frank’ gets a snicker out of Michael before the 'you’re still listening, knock it off.’ “You are sixteen, nowhere near mentally ready for this kind of burden.” The doc is trying his best not to come off as condescending, but he does kind of sound like an asshole. That could be the hormones still talking though. “And when you begin to tell people about this, I highly doubt that you are going to get the support that you need.” He is very serious. “Stress affects your body in a variety of ways. Too much of it can affect the fetus, and may even cause a miscarriage.”  
My heart drops into my stomach. “You're… just trying to scare me right?” Michael is not death gripping my hand and is completely frozen.  
“I’m afraid not. And at your age, with the possibility of multiples, you’re at even greater risk.” He reaches for the ultrasound machine and rolls it closer. “Now, let us see how many babies we’re dealing with, and if they’re doing alright.” It’s an older machine, none of the fancy 3-D stuff, just the classic staticy babies. Which is honestly more appealing to me, the 3-D renditions I saw online are kind of creepy to look at.  
“Right… right…” Deep breaths, calm down, don’t kill the babies. The father is still locked up in fright, and I wonder how many scenarios of miscarriage and pain and lost have run through his head at this point. Too many, that’s for sure.  
“Alright, shirt up, and this is going to be a little bit cold.” As soon as my shirt is rolled up to expose the tiny baby bump, he squeezes gell around my belly button. I’m too numb to feel the cold he talked about.  
Am I ready for this?  
Is this something I can do?  
Can I handle it if something terrible happens…?  
My mind is spinning, but then things come into focus as an image appears on the screen. Dr. Rameriez is speaking, but nothing he says makes it to my brain. He points to different places on the screen, but it’s just an annoyance because he’s blocking the view.  
I had expected a lumpy looking unrecognizable mass. Well, I guess I don’t know what I was expecting, not this. Baby, definitely baby. Two of them, pretty heads and tummies. On one I can see one of its tiny legs, an arm on the other. It’s no photograph that’s for sure, but all those bad feelings go away just listening to their little heartbeats over the monitor.  
Michael’s grip relaxes. He pulls my hand up to his lips and kisses my knuckles. Those beautiful eyes are wide and unblinking, hopefully at least one of them has his eyes. We’re going to make this work.  
And then the penny drops. The doctor adjusts the position of the wand, and at that moment I realize, the moment when the two angels are turned at an awkward angle) that there were three heartbeats this whole time. And a slightly smaller third head and third tummy make their debut. This one is utterly beautiful in every way.  
Michael’s eyes are watering, and I doubt it’s from not blinking. His jaw is slack. Wait, he’s in full tears now, which means I’m in tears, and oh my god we’re having triplets.  
There is something so perfect about these black and white tummies with heads that answers every question and reassures every doubt. We are ready. We will make it work and be capable of it.  
And I’m going to be devastated by my very core if anything awful happens.


	4. Chapter 4

You had another fight with your parents?“ Victoria Cross leans against the back of her couch. Michael and I are here to help get things set up for her party tonight. Maybe if my parents didn’t give a shit like Vicky’s then I might not be so anxious all the time, perhaps I could even get away with having gotten pregnant.   
We met in preschool, and she’s been my best friend from the moment we laid eyes on each other. I’ve spent so many nights over at her house growing up that some of the neighbors think her parents have two daughters. She is not allowed over to mine though as my parents don’t let anybody spend the night. I wouldn’t have met Michael without her, because one summer two years ago there was a moving van across the street and of course we had to check it out. Both of us had a crush the moment that blonde cutie came off the back of the truck hauling a box. Vicky conceded him to me because I had never liked anybody before and she had better (wealthier) prospects.   
At the moment the blonde cutie is off on a beer run since he’s the self-proclaimed ‘king’ of underaged alcohol procursioun.  
"Yeah, it’s always the same stupid crap. Like, last I checked parents are supposed to want their children to succeed and have a great career.” I finish hanging the 'Study Break’ banner and step down from the chair. “Isn’t it kind of old fashion to tell your daughter not to shoot too high so she doesn’t scare off the good Christian boys.”  
Vicky laughs and looks out the large living room waiting, probably like myself wondering when the 'king’ will return. “You mean one of those good Christian boys you’re supposed to marry once you finish your 'phase’ with Michael.?”  
“Those are the ones.” I twirl a lock of my hair while absentmindedly rubbing my tummy.  
“What is going on with you two lately anyway?” She nudges my shoulder. “You’ve always been an adorable couple, but it feels like the past few weeks he’s been a bit… controlling. He goes where you go, like constantly, even if he shouldn’t. I caught him guarding the fucking girl’s room while you were in there the other day, kinda creepy. Not to mention he gets to your classroom before the bell, he’s ducking out of classes to escort you down the halls like some bodyguard. You’ve dropped me like three times because Michael said we couldn’t go out, and whenever it’s supposed to be just the two of us, he’s tagging along too. I mean he wouldn’t even let you dance at homecoming! Just made you stand around with him before the two of you disappeared.”   
How do I tell her without telling too much? “We’ve got something going on, and he’s trying to watch out for me because he’s worried. I don’t blame him; I want him around. And I didn’t dance at homecoming because I didn’t want to, you know I’m the wallflower.”  
“But we’ve been planning the fall break skiing trip all summer, and now he’s telling me you aren’t allowed to go?” She furrows her brows.  
I look over to the large mirror that hangs in the hall, frowning a bit. “He didn’t say I"m not allowed; he said I couldn’t. And it’s true; something’s come up.”  
“What’s come up? What could be so important that…” She grabs my shoulder, so I look at her again. “Are you listening to me, Chris?”  
“Of course I am.” I take a deep breath. “Trust me when I say I’d tell you if I felt like you needed to know. But right now I’m not telling anybody about it.”  
“Except Michael.” Vicky pouts.  
“Michael is involved. It’s between the two of us.” I put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be the first person I talk to about this when it’s time. But right now I need to…”  
“Yeah, yeah.” She shrugs me off. “I still think he’s too controlling; he’s even been deciding what you eat. All the salads and granola bars. Girl when was the last time you had some pizza? Say the word, and I can sweet talk Zack into buying a whole bunch of pies for the party.” I’m glad she hasn’t noticed me tracing the curvature of my stomach because I can’t stop myself. Pizza does sound good right now.  
Again I"m looking in the mirror, assessing my figure. “What with me being sick and all lately he’s trying to help me get better.”  
Michael’s car pulls up in front of the house, and Victoria sashays over to the window so she can squint at him while he attempts to be a manly man and carries it all in at once. “Okay but really, kale? He’s been making you eat kale for fucksake. And those weird casserole’s his mom makes that smell like the inside of a dead animal. First of all those casseroles smell beautiful and are delicious. Secondly, I don’t ask what they’re made of for a reason and that reason his I’ve heard stories about Michael’s biological mother eating raw brains while she was pregnant.  
I groan, regretting this choice of a loose-fit crop-top; thought that if there was no fabric to be pulled tight that nobody would notice that there’s a bulge to hide; all I’ve done is make it understandable and exposed for all the world to see. I’ve been blowing up faster than I could have imagined; what with Michael’s stupid seed being potent enough to knock me up three times over. I’m getting to the point where the only way I could hide it is if I went for baggy, incredibly oversized clothing. At that point I may as well be screaming 'I’m sixteen and pregnant!!’ God I hope nobody tries to put me on a reality show.  
With all the food Michael’s been filling me up with it’s no wonder I’m growing, but he is making sure that I’m meeting all the nutritional needs laid out in the pamphlets the doctor gave us. "The doctor has me on a diet so I…”  
Victoria snorts and interrupts me. “Hun whatever diet you’re on is not working. I’ve got some clothes you can change into so you don’t embarrass yourself in front of, you know, the entire graduating class.” She turns to face me, and her jaw drops.  
My eyes are burning with tears like I’ve had acid thrown in my face. “Wow Vic, I’m so lucky to have such a great best friend.” Sobs are already crawling out of my chest, and I feel like I am going to vomit “You always give the best advice. Really. You do.” Maybe I’m sensitive, she meant it as a joke, We always make overdramatic jabs at each other because it’s how we show affection. She just took it too far this time and nicked the sack containing all the insecurities about my changing body.  
“Chris I didn’t mean, fuck I'm…”  
“Hey, can somebody open the door!” Michael’s voice is muffled but loud. “Hands are full here!!”  
Victoria’s eyes flit between me and Michael’s voice while she stutters, before she darts for the door to give herself more time to find her voice.   
The door opens, and Michael immediately scans the room in search of me. There’s fire in his eyes when they find that I am crying. He doesn’t say anything, sets the beer on the floor and crosses the room in long strides to take me in his arms. I bury my face in his chest to try and hide my body-shaking sobs in his black hoodie. He looks to Victoria, and I feel the energy of his inner demon creeping up to the surface.  
“What did you do?” Grown men have pissed themselves when Michael uses this voice for an extended duration. I have witnessed it.  
I can almost feel Victoria’s trembling from over here. “I didn't… I just… all I said was… it was a joke…” Her voice shakes sounds like she would be crying if it wouldn’t ruin her makeup. “Chris, hun, you know I would never… Chris, I didn’t mean to… You’re beautiful and perfect, you know that’s what I kink. I adore you; I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew it would…please say something.”  
“Take me home Michael. Everybody is going to look at me and laugh.” I choke out, wishing I had never left my room this morning.  
“No, no, nobody is going to…” Victoria’s footsteps try to cross the room but only make it halfway before Michael growls, well more so something menacing groan, to keep her away. “I was kidding, I really was.”  
“You were, but it’s true.” I turn my head enough to see her but keep my cheek nuzzled to Michael’s chest. “Look at me; I’m a god damn cow.” I’m more aware of my growth now than I’ve ever been. I can feel my belly pushing up awkwardly against my boyfriend. It’s only going to get worse. I’ll get bigger and bigger until I’m nothing but a boulder with legs and arms. Everybody is going to laugh when I walk by. And after the birth I’ll be fat and disgusting, Michael will never touch me again. A new round of sobbing takes over my body.  
“No.” He kisses the top of my head. “You are perfect and always will be. Gorgeous, graceful, no matter what; I’ll love and worship you.” Maybe having a mind reader for a boyfriend is a good thing. Isn’t that what all the girls want?  
Victoria shuffles. “Christie, you aren’t going to leave, are you? I was looking forward to hanging out tonight we haven’t gotten to in a long time.”  
“Yeah, well look what happens when you do.” Michael sighs. “I’m going to take her to my place, try to calm her down. If she feels better, we’ll come back. If she doesn’t, movie night.”  
She nods, wise enough not to argue with Michael. We make for his house without even grabbing my jacket. He shields me from the wind, but I still shiver. Neither of us speaks, he must be monitoring my mind though.  
'I’m sorry for this.’ He chuckles and shrugs his shoulders. 'Thank you… for everything.’ He rubs my arm comfortingly. 'I love you.’ He kisses the top of my head.  
“You’re back already? What happened?” Mirriam Mead is in the kitchen making herself a small dinner for one.  
“Christie’s not feeling well. We’re going to go upstairs and talk a bit.” As soon as we got inside Michael’s hand went to my bloated tummy where the crop-top exposes it. “I’ll take her back if she feels up to it. If not, are you going to be using the living room tonight?”  
Ms. Mead comes up to us and lifts my chin so she can have a look at me. “Tell ya a secret.” I sniffle. “I was pregnant once, long, long, long time ago.” She grins when her boy gasps in shock. “Things didn’t work out, and for a while, I thought I might not be meant to be a mother until Michael came into my life. What I remember most is the way I couldn’t keep my emotions in check to save my life. One moment I’d be angry at the world because I burnt my toast, but by the time I got to the door I was in tears because I remembered that when I was seven my dog was hit by a car.” She uses her thumb to wipe tears from my cheek. “Pregnancy does all sorts of things to our brains, and the worst part was people started dismissing my feelings because 'oh she’s just pregnant and over-reacting.’ And that just made me feel even more awful.” She gives me a forehead kiss. “But let me tell you, your feelings are valid. If you need somebody to listen to you scream because the store was out of your favorite ice cream, or hold you because you don’t want my Michael to see you cry for the fifth time of the day, you have my number; you know where to find me.” She stands back and gives me a no-nonsense look. “But don’t you ever let it ruin your day.”  
“Thank you, Miriam.” The name is strange on my tongue, but I feel like I should call her that now that we’re family.  
“Sweet Satan don’t call me that, nobody has called me that in twenty years dear.” The older woman laughs.“Now you two go on and get upstairs before you make me burn my dinner.”  
Fuck stairs. Fuck them.  
“How am I already so out of shape that two flights of stairs have me tuckered out?” I moan while falling onto Michael’s bed. “Soon I’ll end up sleeping on the couch.” I stare up into nothing, trying so hard to not think about things.  
“How did I not know? Mom had a real kid?” Michael sits beside me, in complete shock.  
“Mmm, we don’t know that she did though.” I pull my shirt up to my breasts and use both hands to explore the round shape of my abdomen. Thank… thank sweet satan its hoodie season, and I have an excuse to wear one to school every day. But tonight was supposed to be a party; I was supposed to dress up. “She said things didn’t work out.”  
“But why did she never tell me? She tells me everything. Doesn’t she trust me?” Michael runs a hand through his pretty, blond hair.  
“It’s not that Michael,” I say, wincing at a pain in my side. That’s been occasionally happening since I started filling out. “It was another life; she probably doesn’t think about it very often. She’s never had a reason to bring it up until now.” A strange feeling washes over me, a sickness, a dread, and understanding of something I shouldn’t even know. It’s like a lightning bolt of pure dark energy hit him, but just as fast as it took over, the feeling vanishes.  
Michael doesn’t seem to notice; luckily, I would not even want to try and explain what just happened. Or that it’s been happening every couple of days since I started filling out as well.  
“But what if…!”  
“What if nothing,” I murmured, closing my eyes. “It’s her business; if she wants to talk about it, she will; if she doesn’t you stay out of it.” Somehow I’ve become enamored with my baby bump, focusing less on the conversation and more on the warm fuzzies I get dragging my fingers along the smooth surface.  
Michael groans in frustration. “But I…!” He looks down at me and stops, staring. It takes a minute for him to say more. “Enjoying yourself?”  
“Mhm.” I open my eyes again. “It makes me feel… important. Once I let myself forget that people are going to yell, to lecture, to try and take control of 'my’ pregnancy… well forgetting that lets me remember that I’m doing something amazing.” I watch Michael’s eyes go soft while he puts a hand on the peak of my bulge. “Michael… I’m growing life inside me. THat’s pretty cool when you think about it. Growing. Life. People are going to try and ruin this, but they can’t take away the fact that I am carrying life inside me and allowing it to develop so it can enter this world and do things. I love you pumpkin, I think you’ll make a great destroyer of the world one day, but right now I am ten times more amazing than you.”  
“I completely agree.” He leans down and kisses me gently. His lips are so warm and cinnamony. How can he be the destroyer of mankind when he tastes like a gosh-darn snickerdoodle. “Take it you’re feeling better?” I nod. “Do you want to go back to Vicky’s?” I grimace. “We can stay and watch the Excorsist again instead.”  
“No, I…” With a sigh, I sit up. “If you can help me find better clothes I’ll go.”  
“Didn’t Vicky offer to let you wear something of her’s?” Michael glances out his bedroom window. “Looks like only a few people are here yet, we can probably sneak in unnoticed.”  
“How did you…right.” I look outside. It’s so pretty out, with the reds and yellows of fall leaves carpeting the Earth. “I don’t want to wear her stuff though.”  
“I have an idea then.” He stands and goes to his closet. I get to my feet while he dramatically throws open the doors. “Wear anything you want, what’s mine is your kitten.” He leans against his desk to watch me as I go through his stuff.  
“You have more clothes than I do,” I chuckle. While one hand feels the fabric, pulls pieces out for examination, the other rests gently on the underside of my curving stomach, to keep in mind the size of what I’m trying to hide. I can’t help occasionally holding an article to my face so that I can inhale the scent; mothballs, warm cinnamon, a touch of brimstone.  
Michael is chewing his lower lip, smirking each time I gasp at something I find incredible. “Nobody would let me live it down if I wore half of this to school. I’ve always had a taste for more…”  
“Elegant clothing?” I hum, pulling out a mauve, high-collar button-up. Holding it up to my chest I turn towards Michael for his approval. “I’d love to see you in more of these; you’d be so handsome.”  
Michael approaches, taking the hem of the shirt and pulling it around my waist so he can judge it. “You sure about this one? It’s going to be looser, yes, but you’ll end up with a trapezoid-shaped torso.”  
“Mmm, don’t want to do that now do we?” I’m about to turn back to the closet when my phone starts playing the funeral dirge in my back pocket. “Hold on, hold on, hold on.” I allow Michael to take the shirt so I can answer the call.  
“Hi, mommy!” I say innocently.  
“Where are you?” Her voice is just as angry as I expected it to be, always is if she feels it necessary to call.  
“Michael and I are hanging out at Vicky’s house.” I wander over to the window so I can scan the street. “A bunch of us are getting together to study for midterms.”  
“Christine, what did I tell you this morning?” Neither of my parent’s cars is stalking the street, so I don’t think they’re spying on the house. “You’re supposed to do bible study with the youth group tonight. You’re straying from the decent…”  
“Right, right, I’m too focused on knowledge and not enough on God.” I grimace. I wish I had parents who came down hard if my grades weren’t straight A’s. They are positively archaic in their beliefs. If it had been up to them and not the government, they would have kept me out of school, made me grow up reading the bible in a dim, cramped room all day, only allowed out for church, supper, and to learn to cook and clean and sew. That was enough of an education for them that I learn to be a mindless servant of God and submit my entire life and body to a good Christian husband. They’ve had a few battles with social services after teachers found out they weren’t permitting me to study at home and kept me locked up when I wasn’t in class. I do get to get away with a lot now because a lady comes around every month to make sure I’m being allowed to go out and socialize and develop as a human being. Granted that is also probably a big reason why I got pregnant. But I"m tired of her crap right now, and my tone turns bitter. “No good Christian boy is going to want to marry a woman who thinks she’s smarter than him. Math is the devil’s work, evolution is a hoax, and the books the schools make us read are vulgar and trash that should be burned.”  
Michael snickers in the background.  
“Don’t take that tone with me, Christine.” Mother bites back. “Honor thy…”  
“No!” I raise my voice more, blood boiling. I don’t know how it is she can be so kind one day, and a bitchy control freak the next. It’s like she’s not even the same person she was the night of homecoming. “You and father can’t decide my life for me. I am not going to be some dull, dutiful, uninspired housewife who spends every day acting like everybody around her is filth because they don’t devote themselves enough to God.”  
She is quiet; I can hear her seething. I turn to Michael, who has laid an outfit out on the bed for me. He moves to approach and comfort me, but I shake my head.  
“I am going to do something important with my life. Something that makes it meaningful.” I look down at my belly, smiling slightly at the beautiful bump. “I’m not going to demean myself, so some boring old Christian boy can come to make me his house slave and sex toy.” She nearly cuts in, but I remain firm, talking over her interjection. “I’m going to be Michael’s, and we’re going to do amazing things together, and you can’t. Stop. Me.” The line goes dead before I can be the one to end the call. I"m shaking in rage and righteous fury, smiling like an idiot.  
“I’m not going to lie Christie.” Michael looks me over. “That was hot.”  
I cross the room, grab Michael by his collar, and yank him into the most passionate kiss I can. “Fuck me, now. Before my parents retaliate.”  
Michael practically purrs. “My pleasure.”  
And no sex scene was written cause these are minors and I’m not going to go and get this labeled as child porn.  
Clothes are everywhere now, mine and a bunch of his. The outfit laid out on the bed is now on the floor. I couldn’t even tell you wear my panties are. And Michael’s shirt would have made it out of the room if the door wasn’t closed.  
I lay on the bed in post orgasmic bliss; as does the father of my unborn child, who is lower down, head resting on my bloated belly, whispering sweet things I can’t quite make out. Occasionally he kisses the soft skin, squeezing my hand as he does. His brilliant eyes are filled with love, and hope, and light.  
“Granpappy Satan.” I murmur, chuckling to myself.  
“What was that?” Michael nuzzles the baby bump.  
I play with his soft curls. “I want the kids to call your dad 'Grandpappy.’ He’s Grandpappy Satan.” I can’t stop my manic giggling.  
Michael snorts a laugh. “I don’t think he’d be too happy with that.”  
I sigh, staring at the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling, they’re beginning to light up now that it’s getting dark out. “What does he think of this anyway?”  
“I dunno,” his eyes become sad. “It’s not like he ever really talks to me, and even if he did, I don’t think he would be very proud of me for this. I’m supposed to be preparing for bringing the end of the world, not for… this.”  
“This?” I muse, trying to picture Michael holding a laughing baby in his arms. Maybe with his curls, and my dark eyes. “Well, then I guess we’re in the same boat.”  
“As we’ve always been.” Michael sighs, sitting up. “Your parents aren’t here yet, would you still like to go to the party?”  
“Yeah.” I follow suit, groaning as I get one of those pains in my side. “Might be the last night I"m ever let out of my house. We should try to enjoy it.”  
“I need to get you away from them.” Michael kisses my forehead, which gives my stomach warm fuzzies. “I promise I will keep you safe.”  
“Don’t make promises,” I murmur while Michael gathers clothes for me to put on. “They’re made to be broken.  
///  
We re-enter the party as the ultimate power couple, a look we never tried before, but I think we were born for it. Michael’s crimson turtleneck serves to give him an air of maturity and hide the bite marks I left along his pale skin. But the leather jacket he paired it with screams bad-boy son of Satan. My bad-boy, going to have to keep an eye on him because the girls already like to 'forget’ that he’s taken, and this is only going to worsen that. He’s also got some black boots with a heel so he can tower over the rest of our classmates, giving him a dominating appearance.  
He made sure that I look no-less amazing. The black version of his turtleneck serves the same purpose as his own, but initially, it was loose, baggy, awkward looking; until I decided to throw my need to hide to the roadside. They can laugh if they want to, point, whisper, begin to piece the puzzle together. But they’re all going to know eventually, or at least they should, I’m going to make sure of it. So, we tool the silk scarf I bought Michael for his birthday, which is the same shade as his top, wrapped it around me, just under my breasts, and tied it in a bow on my back. With the hem of the shirt tucked into the black jeans and held in place with my belt, I’ve got a visible bump coming off me. Not quite an eyecatcher, but enough so that anybody who is looking will see. I’ve also stolen a pair of his combat style black boots and might keep them. They make me feel powerful.  
Hair and makeup are on point as well. (Though I don’t plan on telling anybody that he were the one and did mine and his own.) Nobody can say that we look anything less than fantastic. This may be a high school party, but there’s nothing wrong with dressing for something better.  
We cross the threshold with Michael’s arm around my waist. His advice for a great walk, the plagiarism of which made me laugh for five minutes, shoulders down, neck long, think 'murder.’ Oh, the looks we get, bring confidence I’ve never felt in my life. They are in shock, awe, and fear, if not aroused. Whispers spread, and soon the whole party is infected. At least three girls have begun to make they’re way for us, like lionesses. Michael doesn’t even glance at them when they try to start a conversation.  
Word reaches Vicky before we do. Straight to the kitchen, where she is attempting to be a kind hostess and hand out slices of pizza and cans of beer. I see Jessica Marsh whisper in her ear as we stand at the entryway. Vicky completely stops what she is doing, staring at the other girl as though she has three heads.  
I glance up at Michael, confidence wavering a bit; his reassuring smile makes me love him even more; we approach the kitchen counter. "Vic…” She’s been my best friend since we were in diapers, and with everything that is going to be happening, I need her now more than ever.  
She spins around, wide-eyed. “Chris…” Her makeup is fresh, so she must have been crying. “I thought you might not…” Her eyes are wide, looking between the two of us. “I’m glad you’re here. You look great, both of you! I…” Vicky turns and snatches one of the nice plates from the cabinet; everybody else has been getting paper ones. “Pizza, have as much as you want.” She stands aside so I can load up the plate with three slices of sausage/bacon, and one mushroom. I hate mushrooms, but tonight they smell amazing. “Wow, okay, that’s a lot…”  
I glance at Michael, before looking Vicky in the eyes. “Can we talk? In private.”  
Yeah, just… I’ll go clear my bedroom.“ She looks around at the people watching us. I can tell that she’s afraid of what I have to say.  
"I’m not going to yell. I’m not mad.” My voice quivers. “I have to… to tell you a secret.”  
Some couple is making out on Victoria’s bed; I can’t tell who, it was just a mess of limbs and mushed together faces. Vic grabs the boy by the ear and drags him out of the room. His girl follows, complaining while buttoning her shirt back up.  
Before I close the door, I stand on my tip-toes to kiss Michael. “Be good.”  
“I make no promises.” He smirks, before taking a guard position at the door.  
The room is surprisingly quiet once the door is closed, save the muffled Katy Perry music. I look around the room, taking in the posters of her favorite singers, actors, models that plaster the wall. She may try to hide the giant, pudgy unicorn she painted on the wall when she was seven, but in the right light, you can see it’s silhouette beneath the fads. It’s a messy room, one of the worst I’ve seen, but not 'the’ worst.  
“The high-class goth look goes well on you.” Victoria sits on the edge of the bed, swinging her legs. “Especially with Michael at your side. I’ve always been jealous of how great the two of you looked together.”  
“That’s what happens when somebody meets their other half; all the regular couples look plain in comparison.” I take my plate of pizza and sit at her desk. It takes me about thirty seconds to devour the first slice. “Tell me what’s on your mind, Vic.” I’ve been a bottomless pit; lately, my  parents have been cutting back with meals due to my 'weight gain.’ Michael tries to make up for it with as many snacks as he can fit in his pocket, but it’s never enough. I eat even more if I’ve been fighting with my parents, just from the stress. But honestly, if you count the two of us copulating earlier, these four slices may not be enough. I swear I could eat a horse, raw.  
Vicky twiddles her thumbs, looking down at her lap. “I feel like you’re drifting away from me. We’ve barely talked this semester; this is the first time in a month we’ve hung out outside of school.” Her voice is small, vulnerable. “You’re like a sister to me, you’ve always been there when I needed you. Always stood up for me, had my back.” She looks up, rubbing her arm. “I threw this party because I wanted to spend time with you, and then you left and… I thought you weren’t coming back… like in the metaphorical sense.”  
I sigh, heartbreaking for her. “You know I need you too. I couldn’t imagine having grown up without you; I may not have at all, you know that.” I’ve already downed another sliced while she was making her speech, my belly feels warm but not quite happy yet. “I’m sorry for not spending more time with you this year, but as for the past few weeks…. I dunno if you’ll get this, but something is going on in my life, and it’s Michael that I need to get me through it.”  
Victoria scoffs. “Michael? What can he do for you that I can’t?” She sounds a bit miffed. “Something is going on and what? You don’t trust me enough to talk about it? Is it that I’m just not good enough for you? I know me and my family are trash, and we shouldn’t be trusted further than you can throw us, but I thought you at least respected me a little, just a little.” Okay, more than miffed. I shouldn’t have blown off so many of our meet-ups, but I felt like shit even before I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t want to go out or spend time with anybody; now it’s biting me in the ass. Another slice of pizza goes down from the stress, leaving only the mushroom. “Why on Earth would you take solace in your boy-toy before your best friend?”  
My leg is bouncing from how anxious I’m getting. Maybe I shouldn’t have come back; the doctor said to avoid stressful situations. “Because he’s involved in it too, we’re in it together.” I don’t know if I’m ready to tell her, she may not take it well. But I don’t think I have a choice. I have to say to my parents when I see them, and they will bury me and my babies so nobody will know that I shamed them. So, somebody has to know, so that they can’t get away with it.  
“You always said no secrets!” Vicky is shaking. “No secrets, so why are you…”  
“No secrets,” I set down the half-finished mushroom slice and use the desk as support to stand, before walking to the bed. There is this feeling in my gut; she won’t listen to the words, don’t understand them, she needs proof. I carefully sit beside her, she shies away, glaring. “I need you to go with the flow for a few minutes. After a wary nod, I pull my shirt out of my waistband and roll it up to the scarf.  
"What are you…” She resists when I take her hand.  
“Vic please,… please.” I’m quiet, scared of her reaction. With a sigh, she allows me to guide her hand to my rounding belly, and place it at the peak of the curve.  
“Christ, this is weird, what’s the point I’m missing.” Her fingers are stiff.  
“Wait for it.” I know it’s too early, I know this shouldn’t happen. But I know it will. It might be that there are three of them crammed in there with a whole bunch of pizza. Could me that I haven’t much of a figure to disguise them in the first place. But it’s probably the fact that these are the spawn of Satan’s spawn, allowing a little room for error in the realm of 'possible.’  
Vicky’s jaw drops and her eyes widen in horror. “Shit.”  
“Holy shit that happened.” I can’t explain how I knew that at that very moment wonne of the tiny things inside me pressed against the wall of my uterus, I just knew. They were probably stretching. At thirteen weeks it should probably be impossible for me, much less somebody else to feel this little creature move inside me. But there is just enough error in 'possible’ that I think it, like a half-width finger pressing against me but from the inside. I can’t even imagine what it felt like for her.  
“What the hell was…” Victoria looks up at me, struggling to find her words. “Oh… Chris… shit, shit, fuck, shi…” She covers her mouth, pulling away in shock.  
My heart drops. “Vic… don't…” It’s too late, she’s on her feet, bolting for the door. She pushes past Michael on the way out, who immediately enters the room to see if I’m alright. I roll my shirt down. “So… she didn’t take it too well.”  
“I can see that.” He wants to run over and hug me, I see it in his eyes, but is giving me my space. “Do you want to go?”  
I shake my head. “Last night to have fun before I get locked in a dungeon.” Forcing a smile, I stand. “Not going to let her ruin that.”  
“If you’re sure.” He says hesitantly, taking my hand. “Do you want to finish eating?” He gestures to the unfinished pizza on the desk. “I should be stopping you from having so much junk, but it’s been a rough day.”  
“No, uhm. I’m not hungry anymore.” I take myself close to him, using his presence to shield my heart. “I felt one move.”  
I didn’t think physics allowed people to move as fast as he does to cup my belly. “Just now? Where? Is it still…”  
“Sorry pumpkin,” I place my hand over his. “It was earlier, just a little thing.”  
Michael pouts, before guiding us back to the party. “Maybe some excitement will get them going for me.”  
“If that were possible,” I tease. “Wouldn’t they have been going off back in your bedroom?”


	5. Chapter 5

Week fourteen starts in the cramped, dark, comforting confessional box of my chucrch. I adore small spaces more than most people. Father McCallen sits on the other side, waiting patiently for me to work up the courage to speak. I dragged Michael out of bed before dawn to be here, he wasn’t happy with me for making us skip breakfast but I felt to sick to be hungry. He’s parked on the far side of the parking lot because we don’t know what happens if he sets foot on hallowed ground and aren’t interested in finding out yet. We actyallly got here as the father did.

But my mind is very much still caught up in last night, I wouldn’t be here if the hours after the party hadn’t profoundly affected me. I remember overhearing how Vicky drank herself sick early on in the night, and spent the evening in the bathroom. I wanted to go comfort her, but my heart still ached from her rejection.

Michael made us leave after about an hour, claiming that I needed my rest. But I do not doubt that he was getting uncomfortable with not only all the girls hitting on them, but the way their boyfriend’s were giving him death glares from the sidelines. I won’t lie, my jealousy got the better of me on more than one occasion, but surly being pregnant with his children gives me a right to be just a little possessive. I know I’m a plain girl who most of the other’s don’t really pay attention to or give a shit about, but I mean really I was standing right there while they made sexually suggestive remarks to my boyfriend! Michael may have also been trying to get us out before I started a fight after the incident with me throwing my coke at Regan Mulch and calling her a slut. Which she is but apparently i’m not supposed to say things like that.

We went home, because that’s what his house is to me, home. Home is not that place where my parents live because all I feel there lately is fear and tension and misery. It’s more accurate to say though that wherever Michael calls home, is mine. We did not rest though, I don’t think either of us slept for a single minute. Instead we stayed up into the early hours of the morning, whispering sweet nothings about how much we adore each other.  Giving comfort for the terrible time that is to come, for we will be seperated, and I will be tormented, and he will only be able to watch and I know it will hurt him that he can not, is not allowed to, help. His hands explored my body not out of any perverse desire, only seeking to find the changes that have come to it, and telling me what a wonderful job I am doing growing our children. It was a night of skin-to-skin contact and words of affirmation. Reminders not to lose hope. To not do anything stupid.

“Why do you love me?” I asked, cupping his chin, looking him in the eyes. “Why me? I know I’m not a perfect little Christian girl following all the ways of God, but I’m certainly not the bad-girl, leather and chains, bloodthirsty sin chick I’d expect the motherfricken antichrist to fall in love with.” I paused, voice trembling. “Do you love me? Or am I one of the cogs in the machine driving your plan forward? It’s okay if I am, I’ll still love you, I’ll always love you. Even if I’m just a piece of your grand plan to open the gates of hell. I will stay by your side but I need to know, please don’t let me go running around like a fool!” That question had been plauging me for a long time. Since the day he revealed his identity to me. It’s been claiming my thoughtspace more often as of late.

Michael’s blue eyes were overtaken by shock, then his features twisted into sadness. “Christie, my darling, my little kitten.” He brushed my dark hair away from my face while his lower lip trembled. “I do love you, more than you will ever know. And it is not because of the plan, you are some… I don’t even know how to begin to say why I love you.” It’s always beautiful when he cries, I tried to brush away the tears. “You are special in ways even I don’t comprehend. You are better than this world, and better than one I could hope to make. You’re not evil, not dark and twisted and without hope like I am. Still, you love me, the culmination of sin and misery upon mankind, the son of Satan. Your love for me is not like mom’s, and although she does fill me with joy and warmth, her love comes from the fact that I am the antichrist. She worships me as her saviour. You know what I am love me still, but you don’t love me because of it, and you don’t love me in spite of it. Christie when I"m with you I feel like I can be anything, do anything. I don’t feel like a pawn in my father’s game of chess with God.” He buried his face in my chest, holding me close.

I was moved, I was tearing up. “Oh Michael…” He’s not wrong. I loved him, will always love him, because he is Michael Langdon, and he is kind and caring, and does whatever he has to to protect those he loves, even if it’s only to defend their honor.

“You don’t judge on apperances,” he murmmered. “And you don’t hold me to expectations. You have a smile that melted my heart the first time I saw it. Eyes that saw into my sould and knew me before I was ready to open up to you, and still you did not run away.”

“Because I never saw darkness in you. I never saw evil, or satan, not inside of you.”  My thoughts were drawn for a moment to what I saw, always see, around him if I focus very hard. Holding him then I felt, as I always do, that a soul with boundless potential for anything lay within his body, but dark forces surrounded him, energies wrapped around him like puppet strings. He is capable of commiting dark acts more than the average human, but he is still capable of good ones. “Michael, this is not me asking you to, I only want to know for if it were to be necessary. To keep me safe, to keep your children safe, would you abandon your destiny? Would you abandon armagedon for my saftey?”

He pulled back, looking almost insulted. “Without hesitation. Darling, kitten, without you there’s no future worth living, even if it’s one where I rule over a perfect world.” I wished that when he told me about his father, and I told him about my gifts, that I explained the full extent of them, had not brushed them off as dreams predicting pop quizzes and feelings about the weather. I wished that I had told him sooner that my gifts have begun to grow, improving exponentially over the past few months. If I’m honest it’s been since the conception, the pregnancy accelerating my progress into adulthood, causing my gifts to blossom into powers. I wished I could tell him because when he spoke those words to me I saw the dark energies around him pulsed, the strings grew taut, and I felt rage seeping from them. I feared telling my Michael then, feared him rejecting me as a witch, or maybe even dismissing them as the pregnancy and exhuastion putting my brain into overdrive. We will have to talk about them soon though, I can’t keep lying to him. Those strings can not be ignored, not with the children on the way; but witht he imprending doom that is my parents I suppose I can wait a little while longer. He resisted their to lean in and kiss my forehead. “The only future that matters is one where I am with you and all our amazing children, as many as you are willing to carry for me. If my father disagrees he can go fuck himself.”

I laughed.

Now I’m not laughing, I’m sitting in this box trying to find words.

“It’s okay to be scared Christine.” The priest says on his side of the box. “But remember, it is only God who is with us right now, and God loves you, and his mercy and forgivness is not as difficult to earn as your parents make you think. Still, you must confess to start down the path to forgivness.”

“You’re not supposed to know who I am… it’s ano… can we just pretent that…” I’m quivering, fingers probe my life filled stomach.

“Ahhhh.” He chuckles. “Well then go on Miss. Anonomous.”

I take a deep breath. “Forgive me father for I have sinned.…”


	6. Chapter 6

The fact that tomorrow is Thanksgiving would mean something if my family ever celebrated it. Today is not the day before Thanksgiving for us, but it is something I can observe. It’s the first time I have been allowed outside the house in ten days. Needless to say; telling my parents didn’t go very well.  
“You’re not keeping it.” My mother screeched like a banshee when I told her I was excited to have them.  
“How could you do this?” My father hissed, looking ready to strike me. “Do you realize the shame you have brought to us?”  
The priest, Father McCallen, stood between us. “She has brought no shame. This is a gift from our Lord, and she shows great strength for…” Somehow, in that confession box, I convinced him to stand as my ally. To defend me, my children, my right to be with them and their father.  
They could keep me from going to school. Keep me from my friends, from my Michael. They could even keep me from the church. Keep me locked in my room all day if they felt like it, but there was one place they couldn’t keep me from; my doctor’s office. As much as they despise my babies, it is not a good Christian thing to do to allow (or force as they wish they could) me to miscarry due to neglect. So my appointments must be met, and today I hope to gain the chance to claw my way to freedom.  
Being away from Michael hurts more than anything I’ve ever experienced. When my parents dragged me out of the church, he looked as though he would set them on fire if not for my proximity. Every day for ten days he stalked the house from across the street, and we found our ways to communicate. I suppose he somehow ‘convinced’ the shelter I volunteer at to loan him the kittens and puppies that he’d bring for me to have something comforting to look at. He also managed to 'convince’ the neighbor across the street to allow him to leave flowers and balloons as a small display for me to smile at when he couldn’t be there. My parents went across the street to complain, but the man said that Michael had been helping him with yard work because he is getting a bit old to do it himself, that the small animals were therapeutic for him, and the little yard displays were in memory of his wife who passed away in the summer. They were about to board up my window when I reminded them that fresh air and sunlight were important to a person’s health, and if somebody took notice, they certainly didn’t want social services calling again.  
It was easier for me to communicate to Michael though, we’ve been so close for so long that even at a distance he can get a read of my mind. To focus though, and sometimes I did not, and it tore my heart in two to see his face twisted up from him trying to hear me. When I could I would send him comforting words, plans for the nursery; yesterday I thought to him that one of the babies moved again. It was strange, like a gas bubble, and by the time I realized what it was, it was already over.  
Still, at night I ached for his arms around me. Which is why seeing him in the hospital hall causes my heart to nearly leap out of my throat. My parents aren’t fast enough to stop me from ignoring all the exhaustion to sprint towards him. All the misery, the pain in my side, the lightheadedness, and every other symptom is swept away at the sight of him. I barrel straight into his arms, which wrap around me just as I remembered them. All the warm energy inside him pours into my empty vessel. The loneliness of my forced isolation affected me. An effect nearly strong enough that I tell him to take me away.  
“Say the word.” He murmurs into my hair while glaring at my parents, who are storming towards us. The escape plan is ready to go if at any point it becomes too much to bear. With Michael’s magic and Ms. Mead’s connection we can get out of this place and be together, nobody will be able to separate our family or us.  
“No,” I whimper. It’s not just that I am too proud to run away. I fear what the strain of such a plan would put on my body. We would have to keep moving, at least until people stop looking for me, and that’s the last thing I need. Not to mention that even if I make it without miscarrying, raising three babies is not possible on the run.  
“You,” My father reaches us first. “Get your hands off of her. Haven’t you tainted her enough?”  
My mother grabs me by the arm and wrenches me away from my boyfriend. “We have a court date next week to get a restraining order on you. You will never set foot within twenty yards of her again.”  
“You will do no such thing!!” Dr. Ramirez sounds genuinely horrified as he emerges from his office. “Having the father around is incredibly important for fetal development. He creates an environment that allows the mother’s body to relax and produce hormones that greatly improve the child’s overall health.” He gives them a stern look with a reprimanding tone. “In Christie’s condition she needs every advantage we can give her to maximize the survival chance of…”  
“Tell it to a judge!” Mother practically spits at him.  
“If that’s what it takes I will!” The doctor forcefully removes my mother’s hand from my arm and stands between us. The limb is mottled with bruises and aches terribly. “This isn’t the first time I’ve taken a brave young woman like Christie as a patient, and you aren’t the first parents who’re wildly incorrect ideas as to what is best have tried to interfere with their daughter’s well being.” He stands firm. “I have, and will happily, testify in court to ensure that girls like Christie are in the best environment possible.”  
I find my way into Michael’s arms again, his presence soothing enough that my muscles relax. The aches in my side ease. Steady breathing to match his while he strokes my hair. Snickerdoodle and brimstone. Even the dark cloak of energy around him is more comforting than the sparatic sparks of white and red that have been bouncing off my parents since seeing these 'auras’ began to come more naturally. I start nearly to drift off as I lean against him.  
My Michael, my antichrist, my savior, finally speaks. “As much as you may desire to, no force on Heaven or Earth can keep me from Christie or my children.” With his voice, I swear he’s grown several inches in one sentence. His presence is dominating as he addresses my parents. “The only reason things have you in the position of power is that my sweet darling has a sentimental attachment to the two of you as genetic donors and a hope that you might see reason and allow all of us to be one, big, happy family. But know that if you place her or my children in any danger, I will not hesitate to balance the scales.”  
“How dare you!!” My father sneers, and is about to snap again before my mother raises her hand to stop him,  
“It is no matter; this will all be meaningless once we have her off at the Institute.” A mother holds her head high. “There she will not be able to embarrass us in front of the church and community any further. You will never be able to set foot near those bastard babies; they will ensure they are placed into… suitable homes.”  
If Dr. Ramirez hadn’t chosen right then to make another interference, Michael might have ensured the staff would spend the next month scrubbing bits of my mother and father out of the walls; the man sounds even more repulsed by my parents than at the last threat. “You are going to do what with her?!?! Do you realize… That is… How can you be…” He pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath. “Christie you know the way to the exam room, wait there with Michael while,” he is very authoritative now, “I talk to your parents in my office about the dangerous health effects on a girl pregnant with triplets to be forced to go to… that place.”  
I’m so tired, weak, and caught up in the bliss of being with Michael that he practically carries me. “They’re going to send you away.” He sounds sad as he helps me into the exam chair.  
I eye the stirrups nervously. “No… they can’t, pumpkin I promise.” In the chair I am eye to eye with him, so I kiss his nose. “Father McCallen is talking to the Institue to make sure they will not accept me, and informing other… similar organizations that my parents do not have church permission to take me, and they need church permission the thing. In his words, in this day and age, it’s not just immoral to send girls there against their will, but inhumane, especially if their local chapter doesn’t believe it will benefit them spiritually.” I take in his eyes, memorizing the shade, the lines, the blood vessels. “And if I"m not back in class soon the school will call my social worker.” I smile. “So, how was your day?”  
When was the last time he slept? “Miserable, without your smile to brighten things up.” He cups my cheek, then chuckles at my knowing look. “Alright it wasn’t all bad, we had a sub in calc, so we got to watch a movie, and in biology, Tommy Sherman farted so hard he shit his pants.”  
“Again?” I laugh. “Somebody needs to get that kid to stop eating chili for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” I swallow nervously. “Has anybody asked about me? How’s Vicky?”  
“Not doing her job…” Michael sighs. “She’s kept her mouth shut pretty tight about the whole thing, and every time I try to talk to her she bolts.”  
“Damn it,” I groan. “I wanted to get back to school and not have to tell everybody I’m pregnant, just have them already know.”  
“Could just not tell them and let them figure it out.” He tilts his head. “Oooor you could not go back to school might be better for the babies. And I’d hate to see you stressing about grades and what people are saying.”  
“I don’t care what people say about me.” I lie. “That’s the whole point; I need them to talk. So that if my parents do something, they’ll make some noise. They can talk shit all they want about me but if they don’t know to begin with my parents will get away with everything.”  
“Kitten… you know I can’t just let people talk like that.” He frowns deeply. “Anybody who says a word against you is not going to like what happens. I will never, ever, allow little shits like them to disrespect you like that.”  
I roll my eyes. “Well, I appreciate the support sweetie, but I still need the word out.” I chew my lower lip. “I dunno if I said it yet but, I missed you. And I love you, so much.”  
“I love you too darling.” Michael leans forward, and the smell of him makes me feel so safe that I instinctively lean forward too. I grip his shirt, enjoying the feel of the fancy fabric, he’s been taking to wearing that elegant clothing more, showing up across the street in a gorgeous black cloak as the cold weather begins to set in. He’s growing into the dark and mysterious look, and I love it. But he needs more sleep, that shadow’s under his eyes may be hot, but I’d rather he be healthy.  
Michael looks down suddenly, biting his lower lip. “How… how are they?”  
I follow his gaze to my abdomen, the swelling of which my parents have had me cover with the most substantial hoodie they could get their hands on. “Well I mean that’s what we’re here to find out I guess but…” I rest my hands on his hips and smile softly. “I’d say they miss their daddy.” The morning sickness is the worst when I"m away from him, which is very unlucky for my parent’s hallway carpet and other areas of the house. (I’ve gotten a bit created with weaponizing the vomiting.) “Their energy… feels different when…” I have generally felt absolutely shittier the past ten days, and while that can be attributed to a variety of factors, I know 'in my gut’ that they’re affected by the separation from their father.  
“Energies?” Michael looks up at me, trying not to cry and failing so hard. “They have… so you can feel… see… energies?” His grin is weak, and his hand hovers nervously over my stomach.  
“You’re allowed to touch pumpkin,” I murmur, heart, fluttering as he presses against the thick fabric. “I felt flickers, last week, whenever you were with me, and none when you weren’t.” Right now three flecks of energy keep a steady existence if I focus my gifts. Stronger than before I ran into his arms. “Now they’re like, well I don’t know, there’s nothing normal to compare them to.”  
“You’ve already gotten bigger.” His voice is bittersweet at this fact while he explores the shape of my tum through the unshapely sweatshirt.  
“Because three fetuses are growing in her significantly undersized for the task body, that sounds about right.” Dr. Ramirex enters the exam room, and I self consciously pull away from Michael. How much did he hear? To an outside ear that conversation would sound more than a little strange. “Your parents will wait in my office, though I do believe they are contacting their lawyer.” He shuts and locks the door, which is a bit unnerving.  
“Thank you, doctor, for standing up for Michael and me.” I adjust myself so that I’m sitting properly in the chair, with my legs shut tight while I avoid looking at the stirrups. “I know there is only so much you can do, but it means a lot to have somebody say stuff that can get away with it.” I take Michal’s hand and squeeze it.  
The doctor crosses the room and gives us a reassuring smile. “I can do a lot more than you might think, and not just because the judges are obligated to put my opinion above any others when they are deliberating. I do plan to hound them, legally speaking, to protect you.” He looks to Micahel, and that smile becomes a bit darker as he rolls up his right sleeve. “But I will also be enlisting the aid of many others who would do anything to defend the family of our Lord and savior.”  
The sight of the leviathan cross inked into his forearm, near the inner elbow, taking up nearly half that side of his arm, causes me to become lightheaded. I squeeze Michael’s hand and close my eyes while shuddering violently. Is it considered irony to have both sides of the coin adamantly working to help me on this? Of course, my obstetrician is a member of the church of Satan, cause that’s absolutely the most coincidental coinkydink in history.  
“Aves Satanas,” Dr. Ramirez’s voice is cool and collected. “It is an honor to play a part in the birth of the royal family, to help bring the dark princes and princesses into the world so that they might help to ravage it.’” He pauses a moment, and I can feel his eyes on me. “Forgive me; I was under the impression that you were aware…”  
“I am aware…” I groan, turning my head so that the first thing I see when I open my eyes is Michael’s understanding face.  
“Christie is not a fan of organized religion. She finds that large groups of people strongly believing in the same general idea will begin to use that group to enforce and subject the unwilling to their personal and self-serving ideas, with the excuse that it’s all tied together.” Michael smiles reassuringly. “It is not that she is against me or my father, it is just that…”  
“Religious people make me nervous.” I chuckle weakly. “I mean have you met my parents?”  
“But your aid is appreciated.” Michael tries to take a leader like an aura, that is one he’s still figuring out though. “And I will be sure to see to it that you have a place in the world when I reform it in my father’s image.”  
“Can we get to the plan please?” I mutter. “I get that this is a big deal, but I would like to know if my babies are okay.”  
They aren’t. While not in any immediate danger, they are far from okay.  
Throughout the examination, Michael touches my bare, swollen belly obsessively, whenever he can. Afterward, the doctor explains; their growth is significantly below what it should be. I am underweight despite my gaining weight. While my normal morning sickness can attribute to this, along with my parent’s refusal to meet my needed caloric intake, he strongly suspects that my increased stress levels are the leading cause for the stunted growth, along with my separation from Michael. He is also concerned that their overall health is taking a hit from my anxieties, their heart rates are faster than is right for them, and my hormone panel shows a dangerous elevation in the chemicals known to be related to late-term miscarriages.  
“Deep breaths Christie,” Michael murmurs, stroking my hair while I press my face into his shoulder. “It”’ be alright.“ His other hand desperately holds the underside of my baby bump, as it as progressed to the point where there is a small 'underside’ that can be held. "What do we do?”  
“Ideally, get her out of that environment and away from her parents.” The doctor is making notes on his chart. “The toxicity is not good for the pregnancy; I doubt the fetuses will make it to birth if she stays with them and away from you.”  
Michael gently shushes me as a choked sob emerges. “Well, obviously that’s easier said than done. So how do we ensure my children survive until we can…”  
I don’t really hear the rest of the conversation. I’m too focused on the way that those specks of life pulse while Michael touches the bare skin. From the moment he laid his hand on me I felt their energy increase. They want their father around; they need Michael.  
I need Michael.  
“Hey…” He pulls my chin up so he can look me in the eye. “You are so much stronger than you think Christie. I know you’ll get through this. You’ll bring these babies into the world, and no force on Heaven, Hell, Earth, or anywhere else will keep you from doing so.” He kisses my forehead, and from that spot, a warmth spreads throughout me. “Everything will be okay, and it won’t be because they are my children, it’s because they are yours. You are the one who is going to make them strong.”


	7. Week 20

            “The apocalypse can’t come soon enough!” Michael groans, slamming his bedroom door behind him. My escort had dropped me off at his house an hour ago, he was at work, so I elected to take a nap.

            I rub my eyes. “Mmm… what happened pumpkin?”

            “Oh nothing, just you know, today was the day every idiot on the planet decided to come to my store and act like they’re soooo much better than me because I’m the one serving their food.” He huffs, tearing his visor off and throwing it across the room. “Six! Six people started bitching about ‘kids my age dropping out of school and doing nothing with their lives.’ And four complained that the prices were too high because we’re overpaid!” He stalks across the room towards the attached bathroom, stripping along the way.

            I prop myself up on my elbows, rubbing a sore spot on my swollen belly; the little ones have kept me up constantly since they became large enough for me to feel their movements, even my nap now was no more than a few moments at a time. “You can’t let it get to you sweetheart, they’re dumb and don’t understand.” It’s kind of cute that he kept count though.

            “Yeah, but can’t they at least show a little common decency?” Quoth the anti-christ. Who stops in his boxers to run his hands through his hair in frustration. “Shit… did I wake you kitten?”

            I shake my head while sitting up. “Kiddos won’t let me sleep anyways.” My teeth find my lower lip as my eyes rake up and down Michael’s nearly nude body. “Though I am glad to be awake to see you like this. You’re so hot when you’re angry.” I’ve been so horny all the damn time, not that my boyfriend minds.

            Michael straightens himself a bit, giving me a grin that makes me tingle. “Oh, do you now?” He starts to approach me, eyes hungry, a leopard about to pounce on its prey.

            “Not now,” I giggle, holding my hand up. “You probably smell like burgers and dirty fryer oil. I’ll get one whiff of it and puke all over the bedspread.” He cringes, immediately stepping back. “Go shower.” I motion toward the bathroom. “Then we see about sex.”

            He chuckles, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes now. “Whatever happened to sweet, innocent Christie? Who couldn’t say the word sex without stammering and blushing? She was so cute.”

            I point at my gut, which has stretched my t-shirt to its limit. “She got knocked up by the fucking anti-christ. The purity of speaking tends to stop mattering at that point.” I’m finally at the halfway point, but to an outside eye, I probably look like I’m well into the third trimester.

            For a few minutes, I listen to the shower run while rubbing the tight fabric. Baby A’s aura is quiet, a fuzzy light while they sleep pressed up against my spine. B and C’s atmospheres are much brighter, more energetic. They are restless, moving what little they can. While not unbearable, the butterflies in my tummy feeling can be quite distracting.

            “Are you two going to be this fidgety for the next twenty weeks?” I coo, rolling my shirt up and running a finger along the stretch of skin connecting my belly button to my hips, where there’s a dark line forming. “Because when you get big, then you might break mommy if you aren’t careful.” I made the mistake of watching the Twilight Saga last week, it wasn’t as awful as I was expecting, but the gruesome side effects of Bella’s supernatural pregnancy has given me more than a little paranoia. “Or your sister, we wouldn’t want that.” Michael and I chose to leave the genders a mystery until birth, but we both have our theories. The one that is lagging behind, A, who likes to hide during the ultrasounds, I think of her as a beautiful little girl. With Michael’s blonde curls and blue eyes. Eyes that are wide, innocent, as she hides behind my legs when meeting new people. The other two could be anything, but the little one is my princess.

            A dark thought creps into my head. The other Langdon child. Michael’s twin. The one who didn’t…

            Nope.

            Not doing that shit today.

            I turn and throw my legs off the side of the bed, using the nightstand as support to stand. C flutters in excitement as the movement, then B’s energy spikes as something smacks me in the ribs.

            “If I didn’t know any better,” I murmur while walking to the bathroom. “I’d say one of you just kicked the other in the face…” It’s going to be a long twenty weeks.

            “Getting impatient? I was almost done.” Michael teases upon hearing me enter.

            “Maybe,” I hum, stripping slowly.

            He opens the curtain just enough to watch, tongue running across his lower lip. “Mom is going to be pissed at the water bill if we stay in here too long.”

            “Mmm.” I sit on the toilet seat to aid in removing my stockings. “We both know somebody else is paying that bill.” The silhouette of his physique on the curtain makes my blood run hot.

//smut scene omitted because the characters are underaged//

            As I’m coming down from the high, my Michael changes the sprinkling from the showerhead into a rushing river from the faucet. My mind is spinning, so I don’t quite understand what is happening when he starts to lower me into the tub.

            “Michael… what are we doing?” My words are thick and my head the same.

            He plugs the drain. “Well since we aren’t worrying about the water bill.” His voice is silky smooth, cooing as we sit. “I thought we could take a bath. You need something to help you relax.” His fingers start combing through my hair. “I could feel the tension in you kitten, it’s not good for the babies.”

            “I know,” I sigh. “I feel awful knowing I’m not doing good for them…”

            Michael hushes me, his other hand cupping the bulge of my belly. “It’s not your fault. Just relax.”

            I can’t help the dumb smile I get as he reaches for a bottle of shampoo; he’s started using the same products I do. It’s easier than having a bunch of different bottles cluttering up the shelving. For a moment I direct my attention to the three bundles of cells occupying my uterus. With Michael’s aura enveloping us, their little lights shine brightly. Yet they are calm, still, a relief.

            Michael’s hands massaging my scalp may be one of the best feelings in the world. Is this how cats feel when we scratch their heads? No wonder they like it so much. The water s still filling the tap, and as it creeps upwards, each muscle the hot water touches loses some of the tensions built up in them.

            I reach for the candles kept between the corner and the tub, leaning away from Michael.

            Who gently tugs me back by the hair and growls teasingly. “Did I say you could go somewhere?”

            “Aw, practicing your dark leader voice on me pumpkin?” I hold up the one I managed to grab.

            “Maybe.” He growls again, bending to kiss the crook of my neck, before pulling away and standing. “Rinse your hair, I’ll set them up.” Turn off the water, grab the candle, step out of tub.

            As I lay back into the water, I let the heat of it consume me, and start to float somewhere else. “You’re going to get the floor all wet.” The suds disperse into the pool once I start running my own hands through my hair.

            Michael’s response is muffled, my head too deep in the water to catch it; although it sounded like something along the lines of ‘It’s my bathroom and I’ll do what I want to~.’

            I’m tracking his movements, and he freezes when I point out. “Well if it’s yours then it’s your fault when I slip and fall.” He scrambles towards the linen closet and starts throwing towels on the floor, which brings me to chuckle.

            “It’s not funny,” Michael grumbles as I sit up again; one hand holding the underside of my belly because the weight is so awkward. My attempt to stop laughing utterly fails once I look at him, in fact, I snort so hard trying to restrain myself that I start coughing.

            His confused look is met with an apologetic smile. “You look like the bottom bitch from some kind of dom porno about a male maid.” I giggle wildly, gesturing at him in an attempt to convey my thoughts. He is knelt on the tile, entirely naked and dripping wet, trying desperately to rub the floor dry while his soaking blonde hair drips onto the same floor.

            “That’s so… specific.” The boy pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs deeply. “You’re lucky I love you.”

            “Nooo, you’re lucky you love me. Otherwise, you’d burn yourself out doing nothing but try to destroy the world.” I hum, laying back against the wall of the tub and closing my eyes, waiting for him.

            My focus turns self-reflective as I take my pregnant stomach in my hands and caress the growing curve. Trying to picture them is difficult, and the image in my head begins as three mango sized balls of flesh. I try to sculpt them, as though they are clay.

            Tiny heads attached to little bodies. Short arms, do they fingers on their mini hands yet? Or are they still webbed? Miniscule feet connected to chubby legs that are pulled up against their round tummies.

            The bathroom lights go off as I give them Michael’s eyes. I am surrounded by a warm glow. The flames of the candles are much like the energies inside my womb. We all have a light inside us, I see them in people more with each passing day.

            A brilliant light slips into the tub behind me, it’s almost ultraviolet. I take comfort in how the cloak of sharp strings has fallen away today, allowing me to bask in the intense energy.

            “Christie?” Michael whispers, concerned, although I am unsure why. His arms wrap around me, warm hands resting on the vessel of souls. They blink rapidly, pulsing from the nearness of their father’s energy. But they remain still within me, being brought to perfect calm by his presence. “Christie!”

            My eyes snap open, and I gasp for air, my lungs are burning. Why? Michael holds me close while I pant and look around frantically. “What? What’s wrong?!”

            “You…” His voice is shaking, which is something I’m not sure it’s ever done before. “Something was happening to you. I could feel it. Where did you go just now?”

            “Where?” I look up at him, taking in his features as they’re lit by the orange candlelight. “I was right here.”

            “But you weren’t. Not completely anyway.” His blue eyes are gorgeous in the flickering flames.

            “I just… I was only looking.” I break slowly, rubbing circles across my belly.

            There was something between the lights, brief flashes of something far more intense than souls.

            “I was only looking.”


	8. Week 21

            “Breath… Christie, hold my hand.” Michael’s fingers interweave with mine. “It’s going to be alright, you need to take deep breaths.” My shoulders are shaking, my body feels weak. Nerves have taken control of me. I feel so scared, and helpless. “How do you feel?”

            I try to give him a reassuring smile, and my voice cracks as I speak. “I think I’m going to be o…” Burning nausea, overtakes me, crawling up my throat. Gripping the shitty fake porcelain of the school toilet to steady myself as I launch the contents of my stomach into the bowl for the second time. Bacon and eggs taste awful the second round.

            Michael is pulling my hair back with one hand while holding mine with the other, he cringes at sight and sound. “Do you want to go home kitten?”

            “No. No. I can do this!” Snot runs down my nose while tears collect in my eyes. I didn’t even make it to first period. We came in early to avoid the big rush of students. But there were plenty already milling about. The way they looked at me, bad enough that I always feel like I”ll throw up at any moment, toss in teenage anxiety about my image and…

            Michael hands me toilet paper to clean up with. There’s whispering outside the stall. Several girl gathered around, waiting to see me exit, to watch my shame. I kept telling myself to be proud, that what everybody else thinks doesn’t matter. It’s so much different when I actually have to face them though.

            My boyfriend places a hand onto the swell of my belly, trying to be comforting. The thing is, I’m not sure he gets it. We talked about me coming back to school, and he said the same thing I’ve been telling myself. But, I had friends, a social life. That’s gone now, nobody will want to be seen hanging out with me.

            And those whispers, those looks in the hallway. Lucifer… I haven’t even given them the chance to talk to me, tell me nasty things because it makes them feel good to make me feel bad. I saw how they treated the last girl who got pregnant and was brave enough to still come to class. (Assuming she had been given a choice in the matter.) Teased. Ignored.

            My head is spinning, I’m about to puke again when suddenly the door to the bathroom crashes open. Outside the stall, a familiar voice, a soothing voice, starts shouting.

            “What are you doing!? Come on! Don’t any of you have places to be?! Carly if you don’t get your butt moving you’re going to miss your 6:50 dick sucking appointment behind the gym. Go, go, go!!”

            I hear the girl’s exit, some beeline, others shuffle in shame. My savior mutters ‘vultures’ under her breath. Then it is all silence.

            Michael smiles softly at me. “See? We’re not alone.”

            After a moment, a pair of old tennis shoes can be seen at the space beneath the door. “You okay in there Chris…?”

            I struggle to find my voice, when I do it’s raspy, “Yeah, just give me a minute.”

            Michael helps me to stand, one hand on the small of my back. “Remember, chin up.” He dabs the corners of my mouth with toilet paper, then fixes my hair. “We’re going to get through this day with a murder walk, everybody will be envious of you, and if they aren’t -they will burn for our enjoyment in the rain of fire to come.-“ My heart pounds as he whispers the last bit in my hear.

            Slowly opening the door…

///

            We make it to first period before the majority of the class, sparing me from having a room full of people gawk at me on the way in. History with Mr. Bramfort. Levithan Cross on his ankle, so he says. Sent me a list of names appropriate for the children of the antichrist; including but not limited to; Adolf Stalin Langdon, Jack Ripper Langdon, Elizabeth Bathory Langdon.

            “Sit anywhere you want kiddos.” He bows his head slightly.

            “Michael, can we be by the window?” I murmur.

            Michael’s hand is on my back, he wears a large backpack with most of our books and supplies, and some treats and surprises. “Of course, front row?” He doesn’t want me to have to deal with people turning back to look at me, at least if they’re staring I won’t see it. The boy eyes another who is sitting in the seat we’ve described.

            The kid stiffens but doesn’t move, until Mr. Bramfort snaps. “Come on Hanson, she needs that seat. Be a gentleman.”

            The teen nods, gathering his things and scampering to the back, muttering about ‘special treatment.’

            Sitting is awkward, the chairs are too hard. My belly presses against the edge of the desk, and I know it won’t be long until I have to sit facing sideways. More students start to filter in during the process of Michael helping me down, and they whisper to one another, pointing.

            “Can you sit behind me?” I say softly. “I don’t want anybody messing with me.” So many people, so many energies. Now that I’ve opened this sense, it’s difficult to make it stop. It’s a bit overwhelming, and I try to focus on Michael’s reassuring smile as he starts digging through the bag.

            “Fruit snacks.” He sets a small Tupperware container on my desk. “When you’re stomach settles kitten.” Even if I block out the whispering, I can still feel it in the air. Their judging auras, sickly yellow sparks across my skin. I take a deep breath, looking out the window and watching the cars pass on the nearby road, while Michael gets my notebooks, pens, etc ready for me.

            Something smacks me in the back of the head, and I gasp in surprise, tears already welling in my eyes. Glancing down, there’s now a crumpled sheet of paper lying at my feet. Michael has already spun and is scanning the room for the culprit. I grab him by the arm before he can charge off, my eyes pleading when he turns to look at me. His steel blue eyes are filled with fire and rage, but he sighs, shakes his head, and I assume vows to deal with it later.

            I jump slightly as the bell rings, not quite as high as I may have a few months ago. I’m not the only one startled, the triplets fidget within me when they were so still before. Two of them feel as though they’re turning over, while one starts applying pressure in a repeating pattern to the right side of my belly. Looking down, I can’t help smiling and resting my hand there, feeling them kick from both the inside and out.

            Michael’s hand goes over mine, and when I look up that fire has been replaced by a tender, loving look. “I love you.” He kisses my forehead then sits in his seat.

            Somebody raises their hand. “Mr. Bramfort, Michael and Christie are having PDA!” I roll my eyes.

            “I didn’t see anything like that,” the teacher gets the first slide of his presentation up and walks to the light switch. Looks like this unit is on cults, joy.

            “Okay, but she has food, and there’s no…”

            “For Christ sake Tildon, she’s pregnant, do you really think we’re going to deny her food when she’s hungry.” Lights go out.

            I slip one hand into the large pocket of my sweatshirt so I can rest it on the front of my swollen stomach, while my right prepares to take notes.

            Throughout the period I struggle to keep focused while taking notes. My eyes are heavy, but I persist, intent on learning. Till we get to a slide that makes my heart stop, and I feel more awake than I ever have been.

            “Now the Cult of Genesis, which planted itself in Arizona, has only recently come under the academic lens. Most of the case files were put under a temporary seal to protect the families of the victims, this seal ended last year. At the time, there was not the same kind of media attention that more well-known cult leaders, such as Jim Jones, directed towards them. Still, Henry Darvon managed to convince many people to follow him and his way of life.”

            The man in the picture, I know him, his face at least.

            Click.

            “The cult had a stringent set of beliefs about how mankind is meant to serve and respect God. Many were modified from traditional Christian values, some taking those and putting it to it’s most extreme form.”

            My shoulders are rigid, and my pencil snaps against the paper. A little one bumps up against my hand, allowing for a little soothing. I look back at Michael, who hasn’t taken any notes, he seems to just be monitoring the rest of the class.

            Click.

            “The small town that Darvon built to house his followers had a population of seven hundred and thirty-two, including himself. It was far from any other civilized area, and most of the neighboring communities believed it to be a perfectly normal town, just not one that with much worth visiting for. They were nearly completely self-sufficient, and every member was completely compliant to his will. This is why little attention was drawn to Genesis.”

            Click.

            I take in every word. He talks about their beliefs. About their modified bibles. The excerpts he shares, I know them. I know them by heart.

            Darvon.

            Click.

            I think about my parents.

            Click.

            I think about the group photo that hangs on our mantle. The old faded one, of them with some friends when they were younger, all gathered around a tall, bright smiled man. A man that my parents have a memorial for, in the bedroom that is never used but always feels lived in.

            Click.

            Click.

            “What makes this cult so especially interesting, is that Darvon believed that his sperm was holy. Hey, no laughing, we’re all adults here I can say sperm.”

            The photo that started off this section of the slideshow. The friends that keep appearing in these pictures.

            “Darvon spoke of how Christ could only be reborn through a perfect, pure virgin. He claimed that he was destined to have a daughter, and that girl would become the new Virgin Mary. They would raise her as a community so that her purity would survive ‘this soiled world,’ until she could bear the son of God.”

            Click.

            My heart won’t stop racing though. Again, the babies begin to fidget, sensing my discomfort.

            “On March 30th, 2002, a call went to Newton police, the nearest town, telling them ‘they’re dead, they’re all dead.”

            Click.

            “Police arrived to find a town filled with bodies. Only twenty-three people were alive and well. Under Darvon’s orders, the entire town had come together and committed ritual suicide in the same form as the Jones’ cult, drawing inspiration from them. Surviving residents claimed that it was a test, that he expected them all to be fine because God would protect them. That they were proving their faith.”

            Click.

            I cringe, Michael reaches out and touches my shoulder, and I know he’s in my mind. Though it pains me to hold this to myself, I fill my thoughts with the sensation of our children moving, attempting to deceive him.

            Click.

            “According to Darvon’s record, he took forty-two wives simultaneously, but only sons were ever bored to him. The oldest was believed to be six, and the youngest only a few weeks old. The survivors claimed that Darvon told them his sons would be the apostles to Christ reborn. Yet only six of these sons were spared, their mothers having hidden away with them and the other residents who came out unscathed.”

            Click.

            Kick.

            I glance back at Michael, smiling weakly. He looks overjoyed that I’m trying to share the feeling of movement inside me in some way.

            “Darvon was unable to produce a daughter, and it is believed that this is why he drove the cult to ‘prove their faith.’ Since then, Genesis has remained empty, most of the residents had no way to identify them to contact next of kin, and so were buried in the expanse of Arizona desert that surrounds the town.”

            Click.

            Kick

            Kick

            Kick.

            “In years to come surely more will come to be understood about this group, and how Darvon was able to amass such a large following. The survivors were re-integrated into society with new identities.”

            Eight women, four men, ten boys, one baby girl.

            Authorities asked to perform a paternity test on the girl to determine if she was Darvon’s daughter. The parents refused, and no follow up was made due to a clerical error.

            March 30th, 2002. The day I was born.

 


	9. Chapter 9

            ‘Nobody will say anything.’

            ‘Nobody will notice.’

            I can’t deny that I appreciate Michael’s initiative to get me out and about on the weekends. My parents keep me locked inside the house after school when I’m stuck in their custody. But during those hours that I am allowed to be free, those beautiful hours where I can do whatever I want, I spend locking myself away in my boyfriend’s house.

            While we walk through the mall though, I can see people catching sight of me and stopping to stare. Confusion. Disgust. They see my young face and pregnant belly, and I can almost hear their thoughts. Slut. Irresponsible. All sorts of nasty things about how I should have kept my legs shut, an example of how awful my generation is, I will be a horrible mother, drain on welfare, good-for-nothing.

            The worst part is, I know it’s true because of the nasty looks Michael gives some of the people we pass. He can’t help himself from listening in on the thoughts of nearby people, and if I didn’t hold his hand tight to restrain him, I don’t know what he’d do to the poor people.

            “Four for Aquaman.” Vicky’s brother, Calvin Cross, says once our group reaches the ticket counter for the mall’s movie theater.

            Vic is part of the initiative to get me outside. “You excited Chris?” She’s definitely trying to make amends for abandoning me. “I’ve been waiting for months to see this.” I can’t help smiling at her. She does love her superhero movies, especially the ones staring shirtless, musclebound guys like this one do.

            Calvin is nearly a decade older than his little sister and has come home for a few weeks after a spat with his wife got him kicked out. “Alright, here’s twenty bucks to blow at the concessions, I’ve got to take a whizz.” He’s pretty cool I guess.

            ///Can’t find words, must summarize///

            They go to concessions, but Michael is picky about what Christie can have. She really wants an iccee, and Vicky gets on Michael about being too controlling. The teen girl at the counter flirts with Michael throughout the transaction because he’s dressed up in his ‘elegant’ clothing today and looks super hot. This makes Christi, who is wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, very self-conscious and uncomfortable. She starts crying, so Michael lets her get popcorn and starbursts to make up for it, along with the biggest cherry iccee.// Once in the theater.

            We sit near the exit, knowing it’s more than likely I’ll have to piss. One of the babies is situated directly on my bladder, I barely survived the car ride here without pissing my pants.

            Honestly, I don’t pay very much attention to the film, as I am easily sidetracked lately. Michael’s arm is over my shoulder, and the popcorn bucket sits in his lap. I poke his pretty nose to get his attention, and he looks at me with confusion. Before he can say anything, I pop a watermelon starburst in his mouth, finger lingering over his lips, dumb grin on my face.

            The boy smirks, chewing on the candy slowly and seductively. I feel the heat in my cheeks, and between my legs. He leans in, but I shake my head, now is not the time for me to be getting hot and bothered.

            We return our attention to the screen, leaning into one another. It’s a comforting feeling to have him so close. Soon I am distracted again. While I hold my iccee with one hand to slurp on it, should be the size of papayas, though I suspect the one lagging behind is about two-thirds that.

            Michael’s arm moves, and his hand rests beside mine. Baby C kicks at their father’s hand, and my heart swells when I look up to see a soft smile on his face. But it falls when I catch the uncomfortable look that Victoria has, and the strange one from Calvin. My gaze travels around the dim theater, and I find more than a couple, at least a handful of people who are distracted from the movie because the would rather give me scathing looks of judgment.

            “Got to pee…” I whisper, untangling myself from his comforting arms. Vicky looks guilty now, but I ignore it while forcing myself to my feet. My hair catches some popcorn thrown at me, but rather than freeze up I get the heck out, making for the exit as fast as I can. Michael gets up to follow, but I signal for him to stay put.

            The restroom is quiet, as I wash my hands I try to avoid looking at my reflection in the long mirror. Somebody enters, and my breath catches in my throat. A middle aged woman with a toddler on her hip. I try to stay turned away from her, but it’s useless.

            “Teens these days,” she scoffs, making her way to a stall. “Don’t do nothin’ but sleep and sleep around. Bet her parents are real proud a her.” The toddler may not be old enough to understand, but she’s old enough to mimic the nasty look her mother is giving me.

            I finally cave, and look at myself in the mirror. I’ve lost much of the color in my cheeks, and there are dark shadow under my dark eyes. The girl looking back at me is tired, ugly. I was never beautiful, but Michael loved me anyways. Now the girl in the glass is a mess, unbrushed hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail. The little things are impossible now. All my energy is being diverted into the growth of the three fetuses in my disgustingly enourmous belly.

            I deserve to be shamed. I did this to myself. Now I can’t even take care of myself. I’m unable to do simple tasks to be presentable. I wish I never got pregnant.

            When I scurry (as best I can) back to the theater and take my seat, I don’t look at Michael, or the others. Lowering myself into place is a bit of a struggle, my boy moves to assist, but I wave him off. He tenses when I lean on the armrest opposite him.

            “Christie…” His hushed, hurt voice makes my chest ache. “Chris—”

            Somebody behind us shushes angrily. Michael’s mouth snaps shut and he glares back at them.

            Just have to make it through another hour then we get to go home right? I know Michael’s in my head, so I try to focus on the movie, my icee, the starburts, and popcorn, rather than upset him with what’s running through my mind.

            B turns over, pressing against C which makes them start kicking. My sharp inhalation alerts their father, who reaches to feel his baby’s kicks.

            No.

            He freezes.

            People will stare. I don’t need any more nasty looks from stangers.

            His hand reluctantly pulls back.

            I resist every urge in my body to carres my bulging gut. Force myself to refuse to acknowledge the flutterings and tiny kicks.

            Fifteen more minutes…

            A few rows back comes a retching sound, I turn enough to see a rather green child, “Oh god no…” my voice is soft but catches Michael’s attention. He turns as I look away, just in time for the child to vomit all over the back of the man in front of them, though there is just enough time for my protective Michael to sheild me from the splatter.

            “What the-!!!” I don’t pay attention to the rest. The smell hits, rancid, vile. I’m on my feet faster than I’ve been in months, making a dash for the restroom. Please make it, Please make it.

            Fuck another movie must have just finished, the place is packed, there’s a line. There’s an opening!

            “Hey!” The woman I push past cries out. I can’t even be bothered to shut the door, just fall to my knees.

            All the chatter ceases, so the only sound that fills the crowded room is that of me violently emptying the contents of my stomac.

            “Christie..?” I barely hear through the dizzying haze. Tenative, but comforting, not my Michael. “Christie?”

            “That one…” Somebody whispers, just as about bout of retching reveals my position.

            Vicky is lucky, my hair is already up so she doesn’t have to hold it back. Instead she rubs my back, whispering whatever comforting words she can come up with.

            “I never asked for this!!” I sob, sitting back. “I never asked for any of this, I shouldn’t have… I should have done something… I didn’t want to be this. Everything would be okay if I just… if I just.” My heart screams and I don’t know if I mean the words that tumble out of my lips. I only know that I am tired, ashamed, and scared. “I wish I had gotten rid of them…”


End file.
